


Squad Goals; or An Excuse to Bang Captain Boomerang

by Diabolicael (Derpdevil)



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Badly Done Aussie Slang, Boomerang's a big perv, Cunnilingus, Digger can be surprisingly tender, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, He's also a little shit, Loss of Virginity, Mention of Cannibalism, Romance, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Smut, Sorry Pinky, Vaginal Fingering, a touch of angst, am I a bad person because I love Griggs?, kind of, latex-free, mild violence, pink unicorn, prison cell sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7468104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Derpdevil/pseuds/Diabolicael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me something; why is a Gotham City detective slummin' with this crew of drongos?"</p><p>So, he'd gotten her profession off the guards. "Didn't your informant tell you?"</p><p>"Could be I want the dinky di straight from ya' pretty mouth," he posited. Tamry shrugged.</p><p>"Could be there's a lot of rules when you're a detective. Maybe I was tired of having to break them." It wasn't any secret.</p><p>Again came that wide grin. "Oh, darl', that's beauty. You and ol' Captain are gonna be fast mates, I reckon."</p><p>"Oh, I can't wait," she responded dryly.<br/>---<br/>"Call me Captain, darl'."</p><p>Tamry laughed, a strange and breathless sound she'd never heard before. "I'm not calling you Captain," she insisted, grinning heatedly at him. Harkness smirked, pinching between his thumb and the side of his index finger, making her yelp softly.</p><p>"I reckon you'll call me whatever I say, Tem Tam," he told her in a cocky growl. She just shook her head at him, so he pinched harder. This time she cried out, her spine arching involuntarily. "Go on, love. Say it."<br/>---<br/>Slow burn is the best burn, but the dirty bits start in chapter four, if you're an impatient sort of sinner. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Squad

**Author's Note:**

> I know the movie hasn’t even come out yet, but I’ve been sitting at home with nothing to do. Ended up watching Jai Courtney movies for a week and wrote some fic, because why not? There are no spoilers, because, obviously, I haven’t seen the film. Anything that happens here is just from my mind and what is shown in the trailers. I’d like to apologize in advance to anyone from Australia for butchering your slang. Also, some of the characterizations and circumstances of the people and events in this story are probably inaccurate, but it’s all for fun, so eh. *shrug* Hope you enjoy it, though.
> 
> And, of course, I don’t own any of the DC characters.

Walking into Belle Reve Penitentiary, Detective Tamry Sheer couldn't help but think to herself how ironic her situation was. There, but for the grace of God, go I. With very little shifting of circumstances and outcomes, she'd be on the other side of these bars and locks. Working for the Gotham PD was like wading through a sea of vipers and she'd always fit right in. Maybe her methods were slightly less than wholesome, but she was always smart about it. Her disciplinary file was two inches thick and there were plenty of complaints about brutality and suspects missing under suspicious circumstances, but nothing with enough coating to stick. She liked Gordon, she really did, but the old man didn't understand that sometimes it's better if the bad guys don't get arrested at all.

She was about the same age as Gordon's own daughter and had the same red hair (though, hers was a mass of unruly curls), so the old man never pushed to bring the hammer down on her. He thought she could be redeemed, probably. That she was good, but misguided. Sentimental old fool. She really did like him. It was a good dynamic they had going. He kept his hands clean, tried to keep her and the rest of the department on the straight and narrow and she kept her hands coated in dirt, shit, and blood. Normally, that was a metaphor. Normally. Ultimately, she was trying to keep the streets of Gotham a little safer for decent people and a lot safer for the ones who were less than decent, but still worth protecting. There were far more of them out there.

All the people working on Amanda Waller's kite team, the so-called Suicide Squad, were volunteers - from the guards on up. The moment she'd heard whispers about it, Tamry knew she wanted in. She needed in. It would be her chance to _really_ let loose and not have to worry about oversight and Internal Affairs breathing down her neck. She wasn't worried about spending her days side by side with the dregs of the Gotham prison system. After ten years with the GPD, it would be just like home.

She showed yet another guard her ID, with top clearance, and was buzzed through. This made four checkpoints. Given who they were keeping in here, she thought maybe they were being a little sparse. Must be hard to get funding for a clandestine emergency response crew made up of murderers and thieves and whatever the fuck that guy Croc was. She knew she wasn't getting any extra pay. Maybe hazard pay. She'd read the dossiers on all the team members. Yeah, she'd better get hazard pay.

Tamry would be working more or less under Rick Flag. More in that he answered only to Waller and was the ranking officer in command, therefore, she was to follow his orders. Less because… well, she was never great at following orders. Aside from Gordon and his endless stores of patience and understanding, her "fuck you, very much" attitude had earned her very few friends. Also, it garnered her the nickname Temerity. She kinda liked it.

* * *

One of the prison yards had been commandeered for use by the squad only and when she arrived, they were out in the sun for their exercise period. The Croc looked even more horrifying than his mug shots, huge and scaly. She wondered if he moisturized. He certainly cut an impressive figure, lifting weights with no shirt. Tamry wondered to herself if he had a normal/semi-normal human penis or a cloaca. Or a turtle dick; that would be impressive. All flared at the end like a fan cactus. She bet if he hadn't been a violent cannibal, he could have made a _fortune_ doing Japanese porn. Too bad.

Nearby, Deadshot Lawton was also lifting, though not the weight of a VW Bug like Croc. He seemed to have a permanent look of disgust etched into his features. He'd probably be a barrel of laughs. Dr. Quinn, maniac medicine woman, was off in a grassy area and it appeared she was doing yoga. Croc might be the scariest, but Tamry knew that this woman was the most dangerous member of the team. She rather liked that fact. All these big, scary dudes and the little blonde in pigtails was the real heavy among them. Weiss and Harkness were playing one-on-one basketball - badly. She wrinkled her nose as the copper-skinned Slipknot's long braids flew through the air when he took a fast turn. She just knew they were spraying sweat everywhere. Ugh. Still, not a bad lookin' cat, really. She'd always liked the look of Native men. But that hair, though - oh, no thank you.

Sitting alone on the risers beside the basketball court was the most intriguing member of the team, so far as Tamry was concerned. Chato Santana, El Diablo. The man could fucking make fire. As a child, she'd gone through a fire-bug stage - she was pretty sure most people did - and oh, how she'd wished she could be pyrokinetic, like Charlie in Stephen King's Firestarter. It was very easy to feel envious of Santana. Though, of course, there had to be a down side to the whole thing. Maybe he set his sheets on fire every time he got off or something. That would suck. Never being able to masturbate again? No, thank you. His tattoos were something else. Normally, Tamry wasn't one for anything above the shoulders on a man, but the skull accents worked on him. They worked really well.

Katana Yamashiro was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was off meditating or making out with her sword-husband. Sheer hadn't expected to see Harvest Moon, the witch vessel, around the prison at all, so didn't bother wondering what she was up to. Making potions and cackling at children, probably.

Her boss, Rick Flag, was sitting at a table under a camouflage canopy. Camouflage in the middle of a fucking prison. He was apparently using it as some kind of makeshift base of operations, scowling intently down at a laptop with a little satellite dish hooked into it. _Let's go introduce us_.

* * *

It was only the second day and Sheer was missing the Gotham PD already. She'd agreed to be housed on prison grounds during her turn with the squad and was regretting it. The point was for her to be near the team when the team was needed, so they could all be ready to go at a moment's notice. It made sense, she'd agreed, done and done. It was boring her to tears. She spent her days on the streets of the city or in the police department where something was always happening. There was always someone to talk to or maybe interact with a little more forcefully. There were leads to track down, evidence to sift through, reports to read, paperwork to be done. Here, she had nothing. There was television, but she wasn't some fucking housewife folding laundry. She didn't want to watch soap operas and talk shows.

The guards and handlers assigned to the squad wanted nothing to do with her. Her reputation made her persona non grata apparently. They seemed to think she was no better than the cons they were there to watch. Which would have been fine, normally. Fuck them and the horse that rode them. But, with no one but Flag to talk to, she was hurting for a distraction. Maybe she could take up a hobby. Crochet? Make some nice sweaters for when winter rolled around.

Ugh, she couldn't wait for winter. The nights were cool enough, but the days were still sunny and hot and it gnawed at her like a giant sewer rat. Even her room was hot. She'd asked several times about the air conditioning, but nothing had been done. It was a prison, after all. Maybe she'd go out and get a window unit. Her window didn't technically open, but that could be fixed. There appeared to be a breeze today, at least. Maybe going outside would be better than sitting in her little oven of a room.

Tamry sat against the wall that surrounded the squad's private yard, enjoying the coolness of the shade it provided this time of day. It had been erected the week before, just another obstacle keeping the team in place. Made of sandbags, it was about five feet high, so it really wouldn't keep most of the men in, but it might slow them down for a second. Quinn could probably pirouette over it or something. She was as graceful as a cat. Sheer watched her doing some kind of calisthenics that involved stretching and twisting, arching back and slowly bringing her legs over. It was mesmerizing. She wondered if the Joker and Quinn actually had sex. What was _that_ like? Straight up missionary? Strictly anal? Weird devices?

The Joker was so far outside of Tamry's league. She dealt with street walking scum, regular murderers and rapists and kiddie pushers. She wouldn't even know where to begin with someone like that. The obvious place to end it would be with a bullet between the man's eyes, but she wasn't the goddamn Batman. Let him deal with the big dogs. She'd stick to the rats.

The Batman. Now there was someone intriguing. Vigilante justice; she could get behind it. Really, with all his gadgetry and purported martial arts skills, he was probably less of an actual vigilante than she was. More than likely, he was working for some shady government agency. There was probably a whole team of Batmen, trained up in some secret bunker and outfitted like fucking James Bond. Still, the idea that it was just one super strong, super smart guy in a spooky costume was damn appealing. She wasn't the only one who thought so, judging by the specialty section of any adult shop you might enter in Gotham. Capes, cowls, and Bat-a-wangs aplenty.

It was as Sheer was contemplating the sexual accoutrement of Gotham's denizens that George Harkness stepped into her peripheral vision and sat himself down right beside her. He was huge up close, thick and muscular, which was well displayed by the tight tank top he wore with his jeans. Not as big as Croc, nor as tall as Lawton, he still dwarfed her own five foot, four and a quarter inch, thank you very much, frame. She looked over at him, brows furrowed incredulously. What the fuck did he want? He sat with his head back against the wall, eyes closed. If he hadn't plopped himself down six inches away from her, Tamry would have thought he was simply enjoying the shade as she was.

The wind shifted, sliding its way along the wall like a wave breaking against a jetty, which was part of the reason it was so comfortable there. It washed the scent of him across her senses and she blinked, then found herself laughing. He cracked one eye, glaring at her out of it, mouth turned down in a mighty frown. Probably people found him intimidating, with his steely gray-blue stare and go-fuck-yourself facial grooming choices and Mohawk made up of wild curls. Not to mention his size. He was just another Gotham low-life to Tamry. She'd been slogging an often bloody path through them for the better part of her adult life.

"Something funny?" he asked. His voice wasn't nearly the growl she assumed it would be. With his accent, it was actually kind of pleasant. She shrugged in some semblance of apology and grinned at the man.

"You smell better than I thought you would," Sheer admitted, bluntly. Saying it out loud caused her to start laughing again. It was true, though. Whatever he had on, it was a sweet, spicy musk that she quite enjoyed.

He snorted, his eye rolling shut again. Her laughter quickly calmed, leaving her smiling to herself in amusement. She sat back against the wall once more. It was obvious Harkness was sizing her up, trying to work out how much of a threat she was, how useful she might be if he could manipulate her. It didn't offend or worry her. He probably assumed her small size made her an easy target physically and that, as a woman, she could be bullied or cajoled. She certainly couldn't take him in a hand-to-hand street brawl, that was certain, but she wouldn't have to. There was no way he'd be able to scare or entice her into anything, either. For her part, Tamry was pondering whether she should let him in on that fact or if it would be more beneficial that he remain in the dark and think her weak and malleable.

"Who's leg did you piss on to get set up here, then?" he asked, peering at her from under his lashes.

She chuckled at his wording. Colorful. "Everyone I could," she smirked insolently. "I asked for the assignment."

He turned his gaze on her fully now, brows up in what could be genuine surprise or feigned; she couldn't yet tell. "Yeah?"

Sheer nodded with a shrug. "Hoping to rub elbows with a new class of dirt bag," she declared.

"Well, ya' come to the right place," he told her, approvingly. He lifted his hand, offering it to her to shake. "Y'can call me Captain Boomerang."

Tamry rolled her head towards him, looking up at the man with an expression of derisive doubt. "Yeah, I'm not gonna shake your hand. And I'm not gonna call you Captain."

He dropped his hand back to the cement. "Just bein' friendly, darl'."

"Of course. And I'm just being not stupid," she gave him a saccharin smile. Harkness shrugged, unoffended, and went back to resting his head on the sandbag behind it. Good, at least he wasn't the sensitive sort of scumbag who didn't like being recognized for what he was. "What are you even a captain of? Are you a ship captain? Are you gonna sing me a jaunty sea shanty and dance a jiggity jig?"

Both of his eyes were open now, under furrowed brows, and he was looking at her like he couldn't decide whether she was crazy or just a bitch. Little did he know, it was a bit of both.

Tamry snorted impishly and winked at the hood beside her. "I'm just fuckin' with ya."

Now, it was the Captain's turn to smirk. Just because someone was a dirt bag, didn't mean you couldn't be on good terms with them, after all. Sheer had a list of confidential informants as long as her arm and they weren't choir boys and girl scouts; she wasn't a saint, herself, either. She saved her ire for the worst of the dregs. As far as she knew, Harkness was a thief and, while fairly violent, he'd never touched a kid or raped anybody. He wasn't a serial killer. He didn't turn out runaways so strung out they didn't know their own names. He'd never even made it onto her personal radar at GPD. Sheer couldn't care less about stolen jewelry or bar fights.

"But, I'm really not going to call you Captain," she restated her position. "It sounds like a cartoon character."

"How about Digger, then?" he offered. Then lifted a mocking eyebrow and asked, "Or is that too bodgy for you, too?"

"Digger works," she shrugged. "I would have even gone with Boomerang. But not Captain."

"Am I gonna get ya' name or do I have to go askin' the guards?" he prodded.

"Tamry," she told him. One side of her mouth curved upwards sardonically. "But you knew that before you came over here."

His lips slowly peeled back into a grin. "Good on ya', darl'," he praised, pleased she'd seen through him. Digger's eyes narrowed speculatively, "Course, I also got the name Temerity off 'em."

Sheer shrugged. "It works, too. I'm kinda salty."

"Oh, I just bet y'are." His tone had dropped to a sultry purr out of nowhere.

Rolling her eyes with a soft groan of disgust, she turned her head away. "Good lord."

He laughed heartily. Yeah, she might have figured the Aussie to be the type of guy who found disdain to be just as charming as cheekiness. He was gonna be a flirt. A heavy, heavy flirt. Not that she minded trading innuendos, even with sleezeballs like Boomerang, so long as they didn't get too pushy, didn't think something might actually ever happen. He seemed like a realistic enough guy to understand that, so she wasn't overly concerned about letting him get too fresh, so long as it was just talk.

He picked up the bottle of water she had been nursing and tipped it back, draining the contents in one go. Great, he also had boundary issues. That might be a problem. She'd have to nip it in the bud if that were the case. But the water bottle, she didn't care about. Why make an issue when she could just get another? It was touching _her_ that she was concerned with. Idly, Tamry noticed the way his mutton chops, badly in need of some trimming, seemed to curl forward around the lip of the bottle, like a cat's whiskers when they're sniffing something for inspection.

A thought hit her and she couldn't help giggling. He gave her a disgruntled look, still drinking; one eyebrow up, the other pulled down in a partial scowl, which only served to exacerbate her amusement. The giggle turned into a full laugh and he lowered the now empty bottle with a huff.

"What's got you goin' this time?"

Tamry shook her head, cupping a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she apologized, but her eyes danced with humor. "It's not you, I swear. It's just a thought I had."

"Oh? Not used to them, eh?" he sneered at her, too petulant to be taken seriously. "Did it tickle, then?"

She laughed again at his little barb. "Funny you should say that," she chuckled, scratching her head for effect. He chuckled in turn, setting the bottle back down.

"What's ya' bloke think about you working with us bogans, then?" Digger asked conversationally. He bent one knee, resting one beefy arm upon it.

"No bloke," she told him. She had to assume bogan was a derogatory term, the way he used it.

"Not a lemon, surely!" He seemed to be asking for her confirmation of something, but Tamry had no idea what. The detective might need some kind of Australian slang dictionary if she was going to have more than one conversation with the man.

"No idea what you're saying to me right now," she told him, flat out. He chuckled at her confusion.

"Y'take fanny over donger?" She was familiar enough with British slang to know that fanny didn't mean butt. Donger was pretty self explanatory.

"Okay, that one I understood," she gave him a disapproving look. He was trying to confuse her with slang on purpose. He just chuckled again, so amused by himself. "And no, I'm not a lemon. I just don't have a bloke."

"Fancy a root? Don't normally crack a fat for a Bluey, but you go alright."

"Now, you're just making shit up," Tamry declared incredulously. Digger's head went back with a great, booming laugh. It drew the attention of every guard nearby, Santana, and Quinn. The blonde woman looked over at the pair hunkered in the shade and smiled. Sheer wasn't sure how to feel about that, but seeing the other woman's lips curve upwards made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The effect was worsened by the way El Diablo was staring at them, his dark eyes intense. It was like he could see _into_ her and that was unsettling, bordering on terrifying.

Tamry quickly pushed to her feet, suffocating under the fierce scrutiny. She had to get away. Digger misunderstood her sudden need to leave and caught her ankle in one large hand, instantly halting her.

"I was only havin' a go at you, darl'," he insisted. She reacted instantly, kicking him in the ribs he'd left exposed and vulnerable. He released her with an outraged bellow, though it would be mostly more from shock and anger than pain; she hadn't done it hard enough to cause real damage. Hopping back out of his immediate reach, she stood ready on the balls of her feet, but he only cupped a hand to his injured side and glared up at her. "Y'crazy bitch!"

"Keep your hands to yourself or I'll show you just how much of a bitch I really am," she warned, her voice practically spilling ice crystals from her lips. Using the wall for leverage, Digger stood with a grunt of discomfort. He glowered down at her for a moment, broad shoulders tight with agitation, clearly debating with himself whether he wanted to attack her or not.

In the end, he just huffed in disgust and walked away, muttering to himself in a low, furious growl about crazy Sheilas. One of the guards he passed made the mistake of snickering loud enough for the pissed off Aussie to hear and the Captain took out his wrath on the foolish man. The other officers swarmed Harkness, but he still had more than enough time to punch the idiot into the ground. In the struggle, he dropped two more, but was eventually subdued enough to be hauled back into the building, struggling and hollering obscenities the whole way.

Temerity Sheer, always making friends.


	2. Part of the Team

Tamry didn't like the way some of the other guards looked at her after the incident with Harkness. Like they approved of her, like they thought she belonged, that she was one of them. She wasn't one of them. When Waller said she had gotten the worst of the worst for her team, she hadn't been wrong. They were to a man just as scummy as the people they watched. The guards were simply slightly more restrained; not out of morality, but out of self importance and fear. Rick Flag was probably the only exception. He was a fucking Boy Scout.

Sheer wasn't a saint, but she wasn't like _them_. She didn't like hurting people just because she could. She didn't like holding power over others. Power corrupts and she knew she wasn't above being corrupted. That scared her. That was what had put a chill into her when Santana's eyes were boring into her; what it was that he might see, deep within her heart of hearts, hiding in the shadows. Tamry didn't think she was evil or cruel, but she was a realist and it was entirely possible she could become just as much a monster as any of them. Anyone could, given the right circumstances.

But she wasn't a monster, yet. And she planned to keep it that way.

Apologizing had never been something that bothered the detective. Whether it was legitimately owed or not, it didn't matter. She'd never been what one might call too proud - for anything really. Pride wasn't a luxury, it was just a barrier that held a person back; a glass prison they built around themselves trying to be set apart. She didn't need that shit. She knew who and what she was. So, apologizing to a scumbag like Digger Harkness wasn't a difficult thing to do.

And to be perfectly honest with herself, she _had_ overreacted a bit. She'd been thrown off by Quinn's smile and the devil's glare and corrected the Aussie with more force than warranted. He didn't know about the no touchy rule, after all. And it wasn't like he'd grabbed her ass or her tits, it was just her ankle and only to stop her because he thought he'd offended her. He had actually been trying to give some vague, flimsy version of an apology himself, for his own reasons.

So, when he was finally allowed to come out of his cell again, Sheer made her way to the squad yard and had herself a seat in the shade. It was at least moderately cool that day, a nice breeze tooling its way around the yard, following the length of the wall. Of course, she couldn't go running up to him and beg forgiveness. That was stupid and dangerous. She'd just sit there and if he wanted to play nice, he'd come to her. The box sitting beside her icy cold bottle of water was just an enticement to get his attention.

Initially, he ignored her. Or, at least, he pretended to. Lifting weights came first, but when Croc stepped out into the sunshine, Digger moved on. A quick two out of three with Weiss left him sweating and out of breath. The perfect time to have a sit down in the cool shadow of the wall. He dropped to the concrete about six feet down from Tamry, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of one burly arm. Patience wasn't her strong suit, but she could be a rock when it was necessary, so she waited.

He didn't speak for probably fifteen minutes and the woman was wondering if he ever would. The notion that he was waiting for her to break the silence first crossed her mind. She was considering it when he finally opened his mouth.

"That's a bit spot on, idn't it?" She looked over at him with a smirk.

"Just a happy coincidence." He looked at her with thinly veiled suspicion, then down at the box. A flash of longing ghosted across his face and Sheer knew she had him. "Thought I'd enjoy a little snack in the shade."

She picked up the box and opened it, pulling out a cookie for herself and taking a bite. She'd never even heard of Tim Tams before, so she wasn't sure what to expect. It was just a cookie. A good cookie, but still. Maybe if she had been in another country for several years, she might really miss Twinkies. With her own cookie in hand, she tossed the box towards the convict beside her; it landed about halfway between them. He hesitated a moment before reaching over.

Digger snatched up the box and quickly dug out a Tim Tam for himself, shoving the treat into his mouth whole. With a grunt of pleasure, his head fell back against the wall, his eyes shut in a little moment of bliss. He pulled out another one before he was even finished with the first.

"Ta, darl'," he muttered around his mouthful. Sheer smirked to herself. Men were so easy. Fill their belly or empty their balls and they were happy as a clam.

"Don't mention it," she replied. He bit off half the second cookie, happily munching away. "How're your ribs?"

The man snorted with derision, not even opening his eyes. "Y'think you pack a wallop with that king hit?" Apparently, he didn't think so.

Tamry shrugged. "I don't like being touched. I may have reacted a little strongly," she offered, trying to sound reasonable. "But you're right, I didn't kick you that hard. So, no hard feelings?"

He looked over at her and ate the remaining half of his cookie. "Nah, no worries. If I'd known you were a wowser-"

"A what?" she cut him off.

"Prim," he clarified.

"I'm not. It wasn't anything you said. I'm still not even sure _what_ you said." The way he chuckled clued her in that she probably didn't really want to know anyway. She wasn't going to give him an honest explanation, so she lied instead. "I think it was just the heat got to me."

He grinned, his gold tooth glinting. "Oh, I felt the heat, too, darl'."

Sheer rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Maybe you got sun stroke."

Harkness chuckled at her estimation of his mental state. He ate another Tim Tam, then licked his fingers with a satisfied sigh. Scooting his way over closer to her, he dropped the box between them and picked up her water bottle. She'd die of dehydration at this rate.

"How long has it been, anyway?" She realized she should have been more specific when he looked at her out of one eye, brow raised inquisitively, while drinking her water down. He paused, grinning around the lip of the bottle, using his tongue to keep the water from spilling out. Tamry sighed, unamused. "The cookies, asshole."

He finished his drink and rested the water on his thigh, shrugging at her question. "Couldn't even say. Been a while."

She figured as much. "You know they sell them at Shrek's Specialty Imports downtown. There's all kinds of shit there."

"Oh, yeah? I'll have to just trot on down, then, won't I?" he smirked at her sarcastically. The detective shrugged. He had a point.

"Then I guess you can keep the box." She tried to keep her tone light, not wanting him to get all maudlin on her. She half expected him to turn that into an innuendo, but he didn't. Probably box didn't have the same slang meaning over there as it did in the states.

"Ah, ya' a doll," he announced with a smile, tucking the box against his leg as though she might change her mind. "Tell me something; why is a Gotham City detective slummin' with this crew of drongos?"

So, he'd gotten her name and profession off the guards. "Didn't your informant tell you?"

"Could be I want the dinky di straight from ya' pretty mouth," he posited. She shrugged.

"Could be there's a lot of rules when you're a detective. Maybe I was tired of having to break them." It wasn't any secret.

Again came that wide grin. "Oh, darl', that's beauty. You and ol' Captain are gonna be fast mates, I reckon."

"Oh, I can't wait," she responded dryly.

* * *

Quinn was behind the bar, still dripping, playing bartender. Flag was nowhere to be seen. Sheer didn't see any reason to protest the team having a drink. What could it hurt? She sidled up and slid onto a stool right along with the rest of them, setting her rifle on the bar top. She'd made sure to keep as much space between herself and Diablo as possible. Not because she was afraid of him after the show he'd put on downstairs, but the opposite. She was kind of afraid she might not be able to keep her questions or, frankly, her hands to herself. Were _his_ hands hot to the touch? He wasn't even sweating. _Did_ he even sweat? She was surprised steam didn't come from his mouth when he spoke.

Digger, of course, sat right beside her, but she didn't mind. As much as she'd made fun of his moniker when she'd first joined the team, he'd proven pretty deadly with those boomerangs of his. She had to admit she was impressed. Personality-wise, however, her first impression had stayed the course - he was a scuzzball. Katana was on his other side and the detective wondered if that meant anything. He'd made it clear he was interested in the petite assassin. Obviously, they wouldn't start a lasting romance, but lots of women enjoyed slumming it with the likes of George Harkness. When you got passed the ratty clothes, the perpetual bruises, and the muttonchops, he had a lot going for him looks-wise.

Harley served up drinks as efficiently as if she'd actually been a professional. Water for Santana - they all agreed a wise choice. Croc was given some big, blue fruity drink with an umbrella. That was strangely cute. Whiskey for Deadshot and Tatsu. Beer for the Aussie, predictably.

"Detective? You're not really on the clock anymore," the blonde prompted with a wink. Tamry smirked. She'd never been a drinker and she wasn't about to start now.

"Shirley Temple. Extra cherry." George snorted into his beer, foam frothing onto his chops. Her lips twisted into a mew of distaste as she waited for whatever pervy comment he had lined up. He wiped the suds away with the back of his sleeve.

"Fair dinkum, love," he grinned lecherously down at her. Then he translated it into English, as he had taken to doing when speaking to her with terms he knew she wouldn't understand. "God's truth, that."

She rolled her eyes with a little grunt of revulsion. Quinn set her drink down a moment later. It was probably the fanciest Shirley Temple the detective had ever seen. Cherries on the bottom, surrounded by a layer of red that faded upwards to pink and then gold where a single stemmed cherry sat atop the ice.

"Oh, very nice," she complimented, but before Sheer could pick it up, Digger reached over and plucked the cherry from her glass. He popped it into his mouth and sucked the juice out, pulling the fruit from between his lips with a soft smack. He held it there, flicking and wiggling his tongue at the cherry lewdly, eyeing her the whole time. She grabbed the glass and tossed its contents into his face, soaking him in sugary soda.

She wasn't actually insulted or angry about his antics. It was just a bit of fun. They had an irreverent report going. His was boorishness and lechery and hers offense and disgust. He laughed, wiping his face, then gave her a wink as he ate the cherry and then licked his fingers clean. Rolling her eyes, Tamry asked the doc for a replacement.

"I bet ya' just as sweet as a cherry," Harkness commented, picking up his beer again. He looked at the scaly brute beside Katana, "Doesn't she look it?"

Croc looked passed him at the much smaller Sheer and shrugged. "I'd peel the meat from her bones."

Boomerang leaned away. They all knew the big lizard was serious. He probably didn't have any actual plans to kill and eat her, though. It was just hypothetical, since George had asked. A socially awkward cannibal made for some truly interesting and disturbing conversation.

"Golly, that's flattering," Tamry cooed lightly. It was either make a joke of it or be abjectly horrified. She wasn't in the mood. The rest of the group turned toward her as one, just completely dumbfounded by her reaction. "Hey, what woman doesn't like to be told she's a tasty treat?"

The Aussie gawked at her, half astonished, half insulted. "I just said the same thing!"

Sheer gave him an absolute shit-eating grin. "Yeah, but he's got standards. He won't put just anything in his mouth."

Now it was Harkness's steely blue eyes that rolled in disgust and Tamry's laugh ringing out.

* * *

Walking into the mess area where the rest of the squad was eating lunch, Tamry set her shopping bags on an empty table. They didn't sit together, generally. Boomerang and Slipknot were at the same table, but not really near each other. Croc was alone at the table beside theirs. Santana was quietly eating his meal as far from the others as he could get. Deadshot was standing by a window, looking out at the rain; his tray was sitting untouched on the table nearest him. Quinn was stretched out on another table, laying on her back and singing Itsy Bitsy Spider, watching her hands as she performed the pantomime. Flag was sitting with June Moon, who had made a rare appearance that morning. They were thick as thieves at the moment, so Tamry ignored them.

"I got your dye, Doc," she announced, setting the two bottles - one red, one blue - on the table. She pulled out a small box that wiggled in her hand. "The goldfish were just absolutely disgusting, so I got you some rats instead, big guy."

Those were for Croc. He quickly came over and claimed the box, nodding a raspy thank you to the detective.

"Don't eat those in here!" Flag ordered sharply, disgusted. The giant reptilian man said nothing, taking his treat and leaving the room. Four of the guards standing around the cafeteria followed him out.

"Hot stuff, I got your candles," she told the latino, shaking one of the bags. It was full of the large, white prayer candles that come in glass painted with the Virgin Mary or some such iconography. Tamry had been surprised the first time Chato asked her for them. Not so much because of the request, itself, but because he'd never spoken to her directly before. His voice was soft, but his eyes were always intense. She'd tried not to stare at his tattoos, noticing how much more detailed they were up close. They had to have hurt, especially the ones around his eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to ask. Just standing next to him gave her goosebumps.

"What about me, Tam?" Digger asked, looking up from the tray he'd been hunched over. She pulled two bags of Twisties from her shopping.

"You didn't say what kind, so I grabbed Bacon and Taco," she informed him, tossing the bags his way each in turn. He caught them, smiling pleasedly.

"Ya' too good to me, darl'," he announced, immediately tearing into the bacon flavored ones.

"Why don't you just eat Cheetos?" Weiss asked, making the question sound like an insult. Boomerang scoffed, repelled by the very suggestion.

"Y'fuckin' hoon," he grunted, stuffing a handful of the corn snacks into his mouth, dusting his unruly facial hair with orange powder. She pulled her own lunch from the sack - a giant burrito from the bodega near her apartment, which she had stopped at to pick up her mail - and went to throw the bags away. Flag left his seat, apparently wanting a word that couldn't wait.

"I thought I made myself clear last time," he told her firmly. Tamry looked up at her boss placidly.

"Oh, you did," she assured him. "No more favors."

"Then what the hell is this?" He gestured at the room, indicating the things she'd brought into the prison.

"Oh, I'm sorry; maybe _I_ wasn't clear before," she said, overly solicitous. "I'll do what I want with my money and my time."

Lord knew she had an abundance of both at the moment. Living at the prison with the rest of the crew, her water, power, and cable bills had dropped to zero. Goldfish and nibbles weren't really an extravagance. Flag pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing in irritation.

"These people are not your friends," he ground out at her. "They don't deserve your kindness, Sheer."

"I'm aware of what they are," she said, her words clipped and hard. "And I know what they deserve. I'm not an idiot, Rick."

"They're scumbags, Tamry," the man scowled. Her continued defiance was starting to wear on him. He wasn't the first, he wouldn't be the last.

"But _we_ shouldn't be," she snapped, gesturing sharply between the two of them. That stopped him, for the moment at least. "Is treating them like shit supposed to prove I'm a better person? They're already locked up for their crimes. They're implanted with fucking _explosives_ and working on this team is probably going to get them killed. I don't think a couple snacks and some candles is too fucking much to ask."

Her words seemed to take him aback. Flag had obviously believed she was being soft, that she was letting herself be manipulated by the convicts. She wasn't. Sheer might not have even been doing it for them at all, maybe she was being selfish. Playing the benevolent patron could certainly impart a feeling of self satisfaction. See how beneficent I am? Bestowing kindness upon the dregs. How magnanimous I am.

It wasn't that either. They were people and she had to look at them every day, it was as simple and complicated as that.


	3. Things Get Complicated

"Why don't y'have a bloke, eh?" Tamry rolled her eyes. She'd been trying to get some sleep, like half the rest of the team, as they rode the commandeered school bus back to the prison. The Captain was in the seat behind hers, leaning his big, beefy arms along the seat back and peering down at her. He handled boredom even worse than she did.

"Where the hell am I supposed to meet someone to date, Digger?" she demanded, grumpy and tired. "What, should I chat up String Theory over there? I mean… he's kinda hot."

Slipknot was, as one could guess, playing with a bit of rope. His brow was furrowed, mouth turned down just a touch in concentration. His dark eyes were intent on his task. If not for the hair, he'd be right up her alley. The hair and the fact that she couldn't stand him. Harkness made a sound of disgust, drawing a chortle from the woman.

"Relax, I would never fuck that guy. I don't care how thick his rope is," she assured him. He seemed mollified. But his initial reaction spurred her to goad him further. "And, sure, Croctopus does have that whole Beauty and the Beast angle going, but when he says he wants to eat me, it's not in the fun way we'd both enjoy."

"Ya' mad to think that's funny," Boomerang admonished. She shrugged.

"Honestly, Sparky's the only real choice." That wasn't entirely sarcasm. She was certainly drawn to the quiet man. Sometimes, when she saw him staring at his hands, she wondered how it they would feel against her skin. Trailing a finger down her spine so hot it literally burned. She shook off the thought, grinning cheekily up at the Captain and wagging her eyebrows, "I mean… he's _really_ hot."

"Pull ya' head in," he frowned at her. "Y'know I don't mean this lot. If that were the case, _I'm_ sittin' right here. There's plenty of blokes out there, darl'."

Tamry snorted. "You seem to think I was surrounded by princes before I came here. You remember I'm a cop, right? I work the fuckin' Bowery and the Narrows. The only nice guys coming to talk to me are there to report a crime."

"What about another copper? Mountains of them about, I know."

"You know who I am," she reminded him. "I sure as hell didn't give myself the nickname Temerity. The good cops avoid me like the plague and the bad ones… hell, they're worse than _you_."

He huffed down at her, frowning. She frowned right back.

"Why do you even care?" Sheer demanded. But she didn't give him a chance to answer, because she didn't really want to know. She was tired and now aggravated that he'd made her think about her pathetic love life. "Trying to live vicariously through me? Even if I were seeing someone, I wouldn't be giving you all the horny details so you can whack off to it in your cell. Doesn't it bother you that there's a camera in there?"

As she'd hoped, he was distracted by the new, more lascivious subject and let her lack of a man drop. "Nah, not a bit," he smirked down at her. "If they want to watch, let 'em. I should charge a ticket fee. I put on a good show, darl'. Y'should head up to the booth and see it sometime."

His voice dropped into a familiar purr at the end and he winked seductively. It wasn't that she hadn't considered it. The footage was there in the archive and she had access on the laptop she'd been provided. Apparently, there was quite a bit of footage at that, if the gossip amongst the guards was to be believed. But, no. Morbid curiosity wasn't a good enough reason to watch video of one of your coworkers beating off. It was the same reason she hadn't watched any of the shower footage of Santana, even though she was dying to see what other tattoos he had.

"Thanks, no. I've got plenty of actual porn just a click away," Sheer informed him dismissively. Blue eyes lit with delighted interest.

"Yeah? Give us the goods, love," Digger pleaded teasingly. "What's in ya' browser history, eh?"

"Bad things," she admitted in a low sort of voice. Brows drawn down, lips pursed in an expression of suggestive disapproval, she shook her head, clucking her tongue softly.

His eyes widened and he swallowed hard, leaning more forward. "Yeah?"

She nodded slowly. "Oh yeah."

"Tell me," he half whispered. Okay, this was going way too far. She had only been playing with him and he was taking her seriously. She was serious, she did watch some pretty raunchy porn, but she definitely was _not_ about to tell Captain fucking Boomerang about it. Never mind the fact that the way he was looking at her, with his mouth open just slightly, and the way he'd just spoken gave her some pretty surprising low down tingles. Jesus, she was pent up. And exhausted.

"Not a chance," Tamry forced some lightness back into her tone, turning in her seat to curl up against the window so she could break his gaze. He groaned loudly and she heard him slump heavily back against his own seat.

"You fuckin' tease," he accused, sounding genuinely angry. He wasn't wrong, even though she hadn't meant to intentionally tease him that way. She almost felt guilty.

"Sorry. But if it helps, I left you the laptop in my will. So, if I get taken out, you'll be able to go all through my bookmarks."

He made a sound of disgust. "Not funny."

"No, I'm serious," she pushed on, not wanting to leave him angry with her over something so stupid. "It's all there in black and white. Then you can _really_ give the booth a show."

He only snorted, but that was something at least.

"Then they'll be watching you fap while you watch people pork. It's porn _ception_!"

That time he laughed. Now, she felt better.

* * *

"God fucking dammit!" she shrieked, slamming her fist down against the cracked pavement beneath her back. The machine gun had ripped a path of bullets diagonally across Tamry's torso. Her Kevlar vest had taken most of the damage, but her right hip and left shoulder were unprotected. Searing, white hot anguish crushed her senses, leaving her helpless on the ground. She couldn't stay here. If she didn't get moving, she was dead. She might be dead anyway given how cold she suddenly was, despite the burning pain.

Rolling over made her scream again as she ground her wounds into the blacktop. Her gun was a few feet away, having skittered from her hand when she fell. She had to get to it if she wanted even a chance. Her left arm was practically useless, clawing at the asphalt with no strength as she dragged herself across it. She left a trail of blood and tears along the street, pain, fury, and frustration clawing at her insides. Almost there, her fingers just brushed the handle when another spray of bullets tore up the pavement along her right side. Bits of asphalt peppered the exposed skin of her arm, throat, and face.

"No!" she wailed, denying the inevitable. "No, no, _no!_ "

If she could just grab her gun. Her fingers closed around the grip as footsteps fast approached her. At least she could take the motherfucker with her. Rolling onto her back with a shriek of pain and rage, she leveled her pistol on the scumbag.

But it was the wrong scumbag.

"Oi, watcher!" Boomerang jerked to the side, flinching from her line of fire. Tamry dropped her arm, shocked and exasperated.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" she shouted at the man. "Get out of here!"

He ignored her command, dropping to one knee beside her. "No good, darl', I'm skint. Y'know I'm rubbish with a rod. Need you to cover my back."

"Jesus Christ, George, just run!" she ordered desperately. She wasn't in any shape to protect anyone, not even herself. He was going to get himself killed along with her.

"Don't get snakey, Tem Tam. I know I'm breakin' ya' hands-off rule," he went on as if she hadn't spoken. He grabbed her gun arm and yanked her upright, ignoring her scream of agony. "Up you get."

He turned and pulled her arms over his shoulders, then stood, hauling her with him like it was nothing and hiking her worthless body up onto his back as if he were shrugging on a bookbag. She held on tightly without choice, her muscles seizing against the pain coursing through her. He hooked his arms under her legs and took off at a run. Every step he took bounced her against his body, which was hard enough it may as well have been the pavement again. She groaned brokenly against his neck, lacking the energy to scream any more.

"I always wanted y'moaning with ya' legs around me, darl', but this ain't what I imagined," Digger huffed, pausing at an intersection to get his bearings. She didn't have it in her to even reply. He glanced back, trying to see her over his shoulder, but her face was down against his collar. "Keep ya' head up, love. Ya' no good to me if y'can't see to shoot."

She was no good to either of them. Tamry lifted her head obediently, resting her chin on his shoulder. "There's a girl," he praised absently, then got moving again. It was getting hard to focus her eyes and despite his heat against her chest and thighs, she was getting colder and colder.

Boomerang suddenly skidded to a halt, lurching to the side as a gunman popped up from behind what was left of a sedan half on the sidewalk. Sheer's bullet was loosed before she even realized she'd lifted her arm from his chest, hitting the bastard right between the eyes and dropping him like a stone. They were off again, making for the rendezvous point.

"C'mon, Tam. Eyes open. Keep that arm up," he kept up a litany of commands as he ran, demanding she keep him safe or he'd leave her behind. "Don't need no dead weight."

She took out two more goons, certainly earning the effort he was putting into dragging her carcass around the city. But she was losing too much blood, the strain was more than she could take. She'd done her best, kept the bad guys at bay as long as she could. Her gun clattered against the road as the last of her strength faded into nothing. They were close. The Captain should be able to make it without her now.

Just before the dark closed in, Tamry wondered how surprised he'd be to find she really had left him that laptop in her will.

* * *

"Two weeks," Tamry insisted, scowling at the laptop in front of her. On the other end of the video link, Flag was shaking his head.

"Your doctor said at least a month," he contradicted her. Dammit. He'd been talking to the doctor again.

"What happened to patient confidentiality?" she grumbled angrily.

"You waived it when you signed your contract," her boss informed her, smirking. She guessed he could understand how she felt, but, of course, he had to stick to the rules. Which meant another month of doing a shit load of nothing. She couldn't even leave the hospital! The bullets that got her shoulder had been relatively harmless - flesh wounds, muscle damage, but one of the hits to her hip had ricocheted off the bone and tore through her gut, perforating her intestine in three places. It had been touch and go for a few hours, they told her once she was awake again. Even with the narcotics they'd pumped her full of, she still hurt. But she wanted _out_.

"You been talking to my gynecologist, too, Flag?" Sheer huffed sulkily. He didn't answer, because there was some commotion going on off screen. She could hear voices arguing, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Sounded like Boomerang and the Doc. "What's going on?"

"Some of the others have been asking about you," Rick told her, frowning at whatever she couldn't see. He sighed, unhappy, but resigned and looked at the camera. "Do you want to talk to them?"

She couldn't help but grin, knowing how much he hated the idea. "Sure. I got nothing better to do."

He walked out of view and a moment later, Digger and Quinn stepped into frame, the former leaning too close to the camera and almost completely blocking the bubbly blonde out.

"I heard that, Tam," the Aussie declared, eyes narrowed. "Something wrong with ya' pink bits?"

She laughed and fuck, that hurt. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she shook her head. "No, everything's fine. Thanks for your concern."

He smiled widely. "Good, that would have been a bleedin' shame."

Quinn shoved him a little aside so she could be seen. "How are you feeling? Does it hurt very much? There was _so_ much blood!"

The detective could almost believe she was asking out of legitimate concern, if not for the way her eyes danced. Maybe the pretty psychopath cared, but she enjoyed it more.

"Yeah, it hurts," she admitted without going into detail. "But they say nothing too permanent. Some scars, that's all. I got lucky."

Digger blew out a puff of incredulous air. "Lucky I was there to cart you out."

"Yes, I know," she nodded. "Thank you for that."

It didn't matter why he'd carried her to safety. To help protect his own ass since he was out of weapons or use as a human shield on his exposed back. She'd have been dead without him. He looked almost surprised by her ready gratitude, but his expression quickly shifted into annoyance.

"Y'can thank me by fangin' it back here," he insisted. "These yobbos are as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike and I'm all outta Twisties."

It said a lot that she understood any of that. She snorted. "You poor little dumpling."

"Croc misses you," the doc spoke up again. "You're kinda the only person who treats him like a person. He's been very cranky with you gone."

That was a dubious honor. A giant, flesh eating lizard liked having her around. "If it were up to me, I'd be out of here already."

"Okay, that's enough," Flag announced from off camera, earning a glare from the mismatched duo.

"Just focus on getting better, okay, hon?" Quinn advised sagely.

"What she said, darl'," Boomerang agreed. "Hooroo."

"Bye guys," she waved by force of habit. Flag herded them off camera and looked at her again.

"You're not coming back until I get the clear from your doctor," he informed her, firmly. "So don't even try to rush it. Understand?"

She saluted with a too serious frown. "Yes, sir." Sometimes, she hated that guy. This was one ruling she couldn't push, though, Tamry knew. He had the power to cut her from the team altogether, so she'd just have to suck it up and do her time. Might as well be in one of Belle Reve's cells herself.

* * *

Tamry stepped out onto the balcony and breathed deep the chill night air. The city spread out before her, half dark because of the hit the mains had taken in the fight earlier in the evening. The hotel the squad was holed up in still had power and light flooded through the sliding glass doors at her back. Inside, the others were drinking, unwinding after a hard night. Harder than most, so Flag was going a bit easy on the team, letting them blow off a little steam.

The idle chatter had turned into a game of Never Have I Ever and that was when Sheer bowed out. Aside from not being a drinker, she hated the game. In high school, when she'd still been trying to socialize like a normal person, she always seemed to find herself the winner and the butt of a thousand jokes because of it. She'd been bookish and shy, but also tough and unyielding. The combination didn't allow a lot of opportunity to cut loose, so she was pretty boring. As an adult, her life revolved around work and while that wasn't boring, the things she spent her time on didn't really fit the light hearted spirit of the game. Never have I ever stabbed a man to death with his own knife. Never have I ever beaten a pimp with a night stick until he shit himself. Then again, maybe she would have fit right in with this crowd.

She leaned on the railing and looked down, watching the car lights far below. They slithered around the city streets, the stop and go motion caused by the traffic signals reminding her of blood pumping through an artery. Tamry hurt. Physically, of course; she'd only just returned to the team when this call came in. Mentally, as well. The evening had gone poorly. Slipknot was dead. The bad guys had skated. Half the city was without power. She just wanted to curl up in a hot shower and take a couple pain pills she might not strictly need, but could really use right about now. Maybe she should take up drinking. It seemed to work for the rest of the crew, after all.

The door slid open and the sound of laughter and talking intruded on the relative stillness she'd been enjoying. "Aren't y'cold, out here?"

She sighed as the door shut again and the tipsy Aussie flopped his large frame onto one of the chairs set up on the balcony. "No. I like the cold."

"Come sit here, darl'," he purred, patting his leg. "Let ol' Captain Boomerang warm you up."

The woman didn't even glance back at him. Her fingers tightened on the railing. It was his fault Weiss was dead. Harkness was right there; he could have saved the other man and didn't, unwilling to place himself in harm's way at all. It made her sick to look at him. Not that she'd put the Captain up on some kind of pedestal after he'd carried her to safety on their last outing. That had been as much to save himself as her, after all, hadn't it? He couldn't be expected to jump in and risk himself, even a little, for any one of them. No, what turned the detective's stomach was the fact that she was relieved. She was glad that Digger hadn't put himself in danger for the likes of Weiss. Given the choice between Slipknot and Boomerang, she'd have let the dark eyed man die herself.

Tamry wasn't sure why that bothered her so much. He wasn't the first low life she'd seen die. He wouldn't be the last, she reckoned. Every time she looked at the Aussie, she felt a hollow pit in her belly. Every time she thought about how he could have saved the other man. He could have been killed himself in the process. She kept seeing blue eyes, dull and blank and staring endlessly. And it didn't help that she was exhausted and in pain and dealing with the opiate withdrawals from not having taken any of her medication in three days.

"I'd rather freeze," she said, her words as cold as the air they floated on. He only chuckled.

"I could go get skull-face," he offered affably. "He'll top ya' thermostat right off."

She sighed shortly, letting her eyes close. Dark eyes, wide and lifeless waited for her. Sheer instantly opened her eyes again, staring over the city.

Maybe it was because he was on his way to drunk or maybe because she wouldn't look at him, either way, Boomerang didn't catch on that she wasn't playing hard to get tonight. She just didn't want to talk.

"Missed Satana's turn, y'know," he informed her, his tone rife with insinuation. "Woulda' got ya' knickers steamin', I reckon."

"Could you just not?" she asked quietly, shoulders tensing with every word out of his mouth.

"Sorry, love. I know it's been a long time for you. Course, no idea _how_ long. Why don't y'come back inside, have a bit of amber fluid? It might loosen ya' tongue, if nothing else."

"Oh, my God, would you just shut up?" Tamry snapped loudly, sharply.

"Oi, no need to go all agro about it," Digger huffed. "If y'had some satisfaction, you wouldn't be so cross all the time. What'd the last bloke do so bad that made y'lock up ya' panty drawer and throw away the key, eh?"

She whirled around, her mouth twisted into a contemptuous sneer. Just so sick and tired of his bullshit, so sick and tired in general. She couldn't take it any more. She just needed him to stop asking her about it.

"Fine!" she barked in a voice laden with scorn. "You really want to know? Well, guess what? I can't tell you. Not that I would even _want_ to tell you, but I _can't_. There _is_ no last bloke, alright? There's no last bloke, there's no first bloke, there's no fucking bloke! Got it?!"

He just stared at her, silent, completely gobsmacked. As she glared defiantly into those wide eyes, more slate than blue in the light coming from the hotel room, realization sunk in. What she had just admitted. Whom she had admitted it to. Sweet Jesus, she might actually throw up this time. Sheer all but lunged for the door, suddenly suffocating in the open air, but he was faster and caught her arm in one large hand. She shoved his chest, trying to wrench herself from his grasp, but he was just as strong as he looked and didn't budge.

"Hang on, Tam," he started, but just the sound of him speaking after what she'd just said shredded across her nerves like a cheese grater. She slapped him hard across the face. Mistake.

With a menacing growl, he grabbed both her upper arms and shoved her against the wall beside the door. Now, they were completely out of sight of anyone in the room who might be inclined to stop him. His fingers bit into her flesh like iron as he bent low, putting his face a breath away from her own.

"I'll forgive you that, because I know ya' having a rough go of it. That ya' still hurtin'." He released one arm to press the pads of his fingers into her hip lightly. The dull ache she felt at all times increased ten fold, jolting her with pain. She gasped sharply, but bit back a groan of anguish, refusing to give him the satisfaction. He let up on the pressure, but his touch lingered in promise of its return.

"But I won't tolerate more abuse of my generous nature," he warned her. His voice was a deadly soft rumble, laced with malice and the threat of everything she'd seen he was capable of. The muscles in his shoulders, bared by his ubiquitous tank top, rippled with tension as he held himself in check. "Y'got nothin' to be shamed by, darl'. Y'don't owe no explanations to anyone. Someone worth his blood'll come along and see you. Never you worry."

The woman wasn't breathing. She couldn't. She couldn't process what the fuck just happened. His hand was gentle on her arm now, barely holding her; his fingers resting on the curve of her hip. His eyes were still locked on hers, still intense, but there was no threat. Clear, blue, and earnest.

"Just cool off a minute, then best y'head to bed. Y'need the rest." He let her go and stepped back. Without another word, Digger picked up his beer and went back inside, shutting the door behind him.

Never in a million years would Tamry have believed something like that would ever happen. Hell, it just _had_ happened and she _still_ didn't believe it! No one had ever… Digger Harkness of all people… He'd just… No, her brain shut down. It was just too much, too much for one night, too much for her brain already burdened with pain and withdrawals and just far, far too much. He was right. She needed to fucking sleep.

* * *

When Tamry said she needed to sleep, Flag broke up the little party. They'd gotten two rooms, one for boys, one for girls, just like a school trip. So, Moon, Quinn, and Yamashiro had gone with the detective into the next suite over. They had a bathroom, a living room area with a couch and two easy chairs, a bedroom with two queen beds, and a small kitchen. Rick had gone through and removed everything that could be used as a weapon, including the toothbrushes from the bathroom and the belts from the complementary robes hanging in the closet. He'd confiscated Quinn's bat, but Katana still had her sword. She had taken over the living room floor to clean and polish the blade.

Moon had disappeared into the bathroom and the shower could be heard running shortly after. It was ridiculous to think any of the women would be sharing a bed, but with only three places to sleep, they had to call down for a cot. Still reeling from her encounter with Boomerang, Tamry was making herself a cup of tea, seriously contemplating taking some of those pills. Quinn had sat herself on the opposite counter and kicked her feet idly, watching the detective putter about subdued.

"Are you really that upset about Slipknot?" the blonde asked, tilting her head to one side. Sheer looked over and her and shrugged.

"No? I don't know. I've got a lot on my mind," she admitted tiredly. "The night did not go the way I expected. Any of it."

"Yeah," the other woman nodded, pursing her lips to the side in a little mew of sadness.

"Sorry I cut the party short," Tamry offered. She really would have liked to just leave them all to their own devices, but Flag had insisted. Quinn shook her head, smiling a little in reassurance, and waved her hand at the apology.

"Oh, that's okay. The boys were asking me about Mr. J anyway, so I guess I should kinda thank you." She paused, her smile fading. "They think I'm crazy. Like I don't really love him."

A corner of Sheer's mouth turned upwards. She was too tired and distracted to tread carefully now, so her honest opinion spilled out. "You _are_ crazy." The blonde frowned at her, actually looking injured, but Tamry wasn't finished. "But that doesn't mean you don't love him."

Pale brows rose, cornflower blue eyes widened, she looked so damned vulnerable. For a moment, the detective caught a glimpse of a woman longing for someone to understand, for someone to see her. She knew exactly how Quinn felt.

"I'm not gonna pretend I get it," Sheer told her. "But I don't need to. I believe that you really do love him. I'm just not sure he deserves it."

"What?" the doctor blinked, so kittenish right now. It could be an act, but Tamry didn't think so. Her cop's gut was saying otherwise. In for a penny, she might as well continue with her candid estimation.

"You're one of the most amazing people I've ever met. Even with all the…" She motioned around, vaguely indicating the circumstances the two women had found themselves in. "You're pretty damned impressive, Doc. Working with you is like the first time I don't feel like the smartest person in a room and, I mean, that's kinda scary, but great, too. As long as it makes you happy, fuck what anyone else says. Love who you love. You have to live your life for _you_."

Tamry stirred sugar and non-dairy powered creamer into her tea, then went to the freezer to grab an ice cube, because it was far too hot.

"Do you think we're friends?" Quinn asked softly from behind her. She didn't answer for a moment, dropping the ice into the cup and giving it a slow stir as she thought it over.

"I don't think I'd call us friends," she admitted. Looking up to meet the other woman's eyes, "I think we know exactly who the other person is and we truly appreciate their positive attributes."

Quinn just stared at her for a long, silent moment. Then she brightened like the sun coming out from behind a rain cloud and hopped down off the counter. Moving closer to Tamry, she smiled, wide and sweet. "I think that makes us friends," she declared, then bounced her way out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, pigtails bobbing behind her. "Night!"

The detective watched her go with a look of amused confusion. The woman was a mercurial ball of fluff and violence. Turning back to her tea, Tamry froze with a jolt. On the counter, not a foot from her cup, lay a small knife. A chill ran up her spine, leaving her shivering in the warm hotel room.

Maybe it did make them friends, but Tamry still didn't sleep a wink.


	4. Burn, Baby, Burn!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Straight up bangin'!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, here's your reward for stickin' in there through three chapters of slow burnin' feels. Remember, the Captain is NOT a gentleman. Rough terrain ahead. Enjoy!

* * *

She could have died. He might have killed her. And what a fucking way to go. She was still shaking, sitting on the pavement between the abandoned lowrider and the sidewalk, leaning against the rear tire, hugging her knees against the chill. But she was alive. They all were. And the really bad guys weren't. It was all a wild, violent blur in her mind. The shootout. The explosions. The screams. Santana's dark eyes lit by hellfire. Tamry shuddered hard, hugging herself, panting, exhausted. But alive.

When the tattooed man had lost it at the end, there, his flames might have brought them all down. Sheer was no one, just a bad cop with the willingness to take lives as needed to make people safer. The squad could replace her easily. It was the others that were rare and wonderful bits of filth. So, she'd rushed for the pyromancer from behind, tackling him to the ground to distract him and allow the others to get out of the building before it all went up around them. He'd loosed an unearthly roar and thrown her off, then turned his fury upon her. The fire spouting from his hands engulfed her whole, sealing Sheer in a tomb of flame.

But it hadn't burned. The fire licked greedily at her skin, her hair, but there was no heat, no pain. His devil's eyes stared into her soul, judged her, and found the woman… innocent. It must be a relative term. The shock, either from having nearly killed her or from the fact that he had been unable to do so, snapped Chato out of his deadly trance and the flames went out. Only the ones he was spewing, not the ones that had already taken hold, unfortunately. Her legs gave out and the man rushed to her, dragging her from the building that was quickly descending into the ninth circle of Hell.

Tamry had finally found out what it would feel like to be touched by his hands. They were surprisingly cool on her skin, strong, but gentle as he hauled her from the conflagration. His whole body was cool and firm, his skin soft under her own hands when she clung to him, choking on the heat and smoke. His dark eyes were unexpectedly kind, grateful beneath the black ink of his tattoos, reflecting the firelight at her.

It was Boomerang's hands that were hot as he snatched her away from the smaller man's side, lifting her into his arms and away from the burning building. His skin was shining, dripping with sweat. His blue eyes were wide and wild above the mutton chops that were singed on one side where he'd gotten too close to the flames. One sleeve of his long overcoat was fairly shredded where he'd pulled away from Croc. That's what she thought Katana said while Tamry was sitting on the back of the ambulance, sucking oxygen from a mask. She may have misheard; her ears were ringing with the pounding of her heart and the sirens of all the emergency vehicles on the scene.

The fire was still being fought. That was why the squad was still there, they couldn't get evac because of all the emergency personnel, the roads around the scene had been shut down, the area was a no-fly zone. They just had to sit tight and wait. That was what the shaken detective was doing. Sitting and waiting. And shaking. She was about a block away, but the flames lit the sky, casting a five block radius in a faintly orange glow. Ashes fell like snow downwind of the blaze, so she'd moved upwind. It was quieter here, empty.

"There y'are!" Nearly empty.

Digger dropped down beside her, his back hitting the lowrider with enough force that the vehicle creaked on its shocks. He was out of breath and still sweaty, despite the near frigid temperature of the evening. He pulled a water bottle from a coat pocket and opened it. Tamry was hit by a wave of de ja vu. It was almost like a mirror of the day they'd met. Instead of upending the bottle and draining the contents, the Captain turned to her and forced it into her hand

"'Ere. Drink this," he ordered, pushing the bottle to her lips as if she were a child. It was icy cold and soothed her sore throat a bit. She gulped the liquid greedily. "There's a girl."

When the bottle was empty, he took it and tossed it, then produced another. She'd sucked down half of that before coming up for air, panting softly. The exhausted woman handed him back the bottle and he finished it off, wiping his mouth with a grunt. They both leaned against the car, heads back, breaths spilling tandem jets of steam into the night air.

After a few minutes of silence, which must have been a personal record for him, Boomerang declared, "Ya' one crazy fuckin' bird, y'know that?"

A tired smirk lifted her lips. "Worked didn't it?" Her voice was a little raspy still, but at least she could speak. He puffed out an astonished laugh. She knew what he would look like in that moment, even with her eyes closed.

"You cold?"

She shook her head. "I like the cold." He reached over and laid one of his hands on hers, where they clasped over her knees.

"Ya' shiverin'," he informed her, displeased. Tamry opened her eyes and looked at the big Aussie.

"So are you." He frowned slightly, drawing his hand back a bit and holding it in the air. It was shaking.

"Ah!" he waved the notion away with a sound of incredulous dismissal. "That's just adrenaline, love. C'mere."

He scooted closer, snaking his arm behind her shoulders and tugging her close to his side.

"What'd I tell you about touching?" she asked without conviction. He made the same dismissive sound, pulling his coat out and around her.

"Rules are made to be broken, darl'," he insisted with a smirk, hugging her snugly against his body. She couldn't deny, he was so very warm. And solid. And shaking. She leaned her head back against his bicep and sighed, pondering his shivers. Adrenaline. Fear.

She might have died. To save the team, she'd make the same choice again. She hoped she would, anyway. They were doing enough good that it was worth the sacrifice. They were scumbags, but they were _her_ scumbags. That might just be the euphoria of not being dead talking. She didn't regret it, though. She regretted a lot of things, but not literally jumping into the fire. She regretted _a lot_ of things. They say you regret the roads not taken more than the ones you've gone down, good or bad. That was bullshit. Sheer wished she could take back a lot of turns, a lot of bad choices, a lot of questionable actions, but nothing she'd left undone. Almost nothing.

"Is everyone else okay?"

"Everyone made it out," he assured her, his voice softer now, tired. She looked up at him, but he was resting his head back against the quarter panel, eyes closed. He always seemed to get the same eye blackened in every fight. There were other bruises as well and a cut across his right eyebrow that had scabbed over. He wouldn't have gone to the paramedics to get it properly dressed, of course. Not Captain Boomerang. She turned her gaze to his hands. The one on her arm, holding her close, sported newly split open knuckles that would add to the white webbing of scars there when they healed. The other rested on his raised thigh, the protective glove gone, relatively unscathed, but with the same scars across the knuckles from countless past dust ups.

He smelled like acrid smoke and sweat, but also that sweet, spicy musk she liked so much. That made Tamry smile, but not quite laugh like it had the first time she'd caught the scent. Felt like a lifetime ago. Had things with Chato gone differently, it might have _been_ a lifetime ago. She shuddered hard, eyes squeezing shut tight against the rush of fear that hit her. Digger squeezed her tighter, rubbing his hand up and down on her arm, obviously thinking the cold had caused it.

"You smell better than I thought you would," she told him. To Boomerang, her comment must have come from nowhere and he laughed.

"Should I bottle it up for you, since y'like it so much?" he asked, smiling in amusement, eyes still closed.

"Do you remember the day we met, in the yard?" He shrugged with a noncommittal grunt. "And I laughed and laughed and wouldn't tell you why?"

His brow furrowed in thought for a moment, then he smirked. "Right, y'had a thought and it tickled."

"It's funny you should say that," the woman said softly. She reached up and brushed her fingers lightly against his unsinged mutton chop, saying, "Because what I thought was, 'would that tickle?'"

His eyes popped open, startled by her touch. He turned his head to look down at her and she took advantage of the movement, sliding her hand back to cup his neck and pull him towards her. His eyes widened in confusion as she shifted and stretched, straining upward to reach him.

"What're you doin', darl'?" he asked the question against her lips.

"Finding out," she replied, pulling him forward that last little bit. He let her, which told Tamry all she needed to know. He didn't kiss her back at first, remaining still as her lips moved against his, as if expecting her to pull back and laugh and it all be a joke at his expense. Her thumb stroked against the underside of his jaw, rasping over the three day old stubble there. When she slid her tongue against the seem of his lips, they parted for her, and she dipped inside. He tasted like smoke and beer and mint and something heavy and masculine she couldn't name, but instantly wanted more of.

With a soft, breathy moan she pressed into his mouth harder, pushing passed his teeth to stroke her tongue against his. He finally broke. His arm tightened around her shoulders and he crushed his mouth to hers, taking control of the kiss. His tongue attacked hers, invading and claiming her mouth with brute force. She surrendered willingly, moaning under the assault. Harkness groaned in reply, a low sound that made her clench inside and forced a gush of heat between her legs.

He turned towards her more, his free hand coming up to fist in her copper locks, pulling at her scalp a little painfully, but she didn't mind one bit. Her fingers dug into his neck, feeling the sinew there pulled taut. He caught her bottom lip in his teeth and bit down more gently than she would have expected, then sucked it with another groan before plunging his tongue into her mouth again.

Tamry's boots scraped against the pavement as she tried to turn her body towards his fully. Because the shift made her push against his chest, Digger pulled away from her lips, panting brokenly. His hold loosened, eyes wide and searching hers for a denial he wouldn't find. She gripped his shoulders and dragged her knees up under her, slinging her leg over his and seating herself on his lap.

"Tam," he breathed her name questioningly, but had no chance to say more, since she kissed him again, pressing her body eagerly against his. His arms came around her, one across the small of her back, the other flat against her spine, fingers burying themselves in her hair once more. Everything about him was hard, his hold, his mouth, his body beneath hers, and she reveled in it. Since he was hard, she was determined to be soft, yielding her mouth to his, stroking her fingers against his throat. Soft, but insistent. She pulled back against the iron hold of his arms and he let her, just enough to unzip his blue member's jacket and push it open, sliding her hands up under is tank to get at the skin she longed for.

Hot and smoother than she expected, it rippled under her touch as the muscles moved beneath. She moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it, then demanded more. His hand palmed her ass, pulling her down harder, grinding her against his very evident erection. Electric tingles skittered across her nerves at the feel of him pressing against her so intimately. Her thighs squeezed his hips reflexively and she shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold. She couldn't even feel the cold anymore.

There was far too much between them and she pulled back again, attacking her Kevlar vest with a vengeance. Using the hand not gripping her backside, he helped and in short order the body armor was cast aside. Something symbolic in that. She went after her overshirt next, fingers fumbling on the buttons so badly he lost his patience. They tore loose, flying off into the night when Boomerang gave the shirt a sharp tug, yanking it off her back and down her arms. She pulled her hands free and the shirt was forgotten as she reached for him again. He hooked a finger in the front of her undershirt collar and pulled it down. The move was accompanied by a tearing sound they both ignored. He abandoned her now swollen lips and left a searing, wet trail down over her jaw and throat that cooled sharply in the night air. His destination was her breastbone, where his tongue snaked out to taste her skin before he pressed his lips there and sucked a mark into the flesh.

Tamry whimpered his name, nails digging into his arms, and he purred against her chest. Lifting his head, he released her shirt to cup her breast, squeezing firmly. "Call me Captain, darl'."

She laughed, a strange and breathless sound she'd never heard before. "I'm not calling you Captain," she insisted, grinning heatedly at him. Harkness smirked, pinching her nipple between his thumb and the side of his index finger, making her yelp softly.

"I reckon you'll call me whatever I say, Tem Tam," he told her in a cocky growl. She just shook her head at him, so he pinched harder. This time she cried out, her spine arching involuntarily. "Go on, love. Say it."

"No!" she whined, jaw clenched against the somehow delicious pain. He let out a guttural sound of anger at her continued refusal. He let her nipple go, only to grab the collar of her shirt again and finish what he'd started, tearing the fabric until it hung uselessly, baring one side of her torso to her ribs. He yanked her bra strap down her arm, exposing her breast to the frigid night. His palm was hot as he cupped her, but his mouth burned like fire when he settled it over her nipple and sucked hard.

Tamry's head fell back with a loud moan, her hips rocking against his without thought. Her fingers clawed the insufferable beanie away, then wove into his wild locks, gripping the surprisingly soft hair tightly. He bit down and made her cry out again, louder. Her nails scraped against his scalp. But she still didn't call him Captain. He seemed to lose interest in gaining her obedience, however, letting her sensitive flesh loose and teasing it with gentle strokes from his tongue.

"Oh, fuck," she whimpered. She pushed a hand down the back of his clothes, her nails dragging up his spine and making him shiver beneath her. It made her greedy, she wanted to touch him more, make him react more. Her lips curled into a devilish smile as she got an idea, one she was sure he'd like. Tamry pushed his shoulders back and he gave under the pressure, but groaned in protest at the loss of his mouthful.

"Y'taste so good, love," he purred, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her wet nipple, now hard like a pebble from his attentions. She hummed with pleasure at the sensation and his words. "Can't wait to see how sweet ya' little cherry tastes."

The hand on her ass dipped lower, fingers curling under to press against her where she ached for him, but not enough. The fabric of her pants was pulled tight because of her position, so she could barely feel his fingers. It was gut wrenchingly frustrating. But they were in the middle of the street and, even as turned on as she was, she was not about to strip naked out in the open. She didn't expect him to, either, but she still wanted that skin.

She reached into his coat, fingers carefully closing around what she sought and pulling it free. The razor-edged boomerang glinted wickedly in the sunset glow cast by the fire. Digger eyed it, then looked at her with one brow raised inquisitively.

"What are y'plannin' on doin' with that?" he asked. His voice was curious and husky with lust and she wished he sounded like that all the time. Tamry ran a hand down his chest and stomach, then hooked her thumb under the bottom hem of his tank and pulled it up, gathering the material in her hand all the way back up to the collar.

"You ruined my shirt," she smirked brazenly as she spoke. Being very careful, she slipped the blade between the fabric and his lovely skin, then sliced cleanly through the tank. It fell away in halves on either side of his torso, beautiful and muscular and dusted with soft, dark curls just begging for her fingers to stroke through them. Moving the boomerang away, out to the side where it could do no harm, she leaned in and flicked her tongue at his collarbone, then returned the favor he did her, and sucked a bruise into the skin there.

Harkness groaned, letting his head fall back again. She dragged her fingernails across his belly, low down and was delighted when his abs contracted and his thighs tightened under her own. He pushed his hand into the back of her pants, into her panties, cupping her bare cheek and squeezing hard. She half-squeaked against his skin and he laughed smugly at her reaction. So, she bit him in retaliation.

"Fuckin' hell, Tam," he growled. He tried to push his hand lower, but the taut material had no give. His growl turned into one of irritation and he took it out on her hair, grabbing a handful and pulling her head back roughly. He bit at her lips sharply, then her jaw, then sank his teeth into her throat and tugged. She whimpered loudly, her empty hand sliding up his chest and over his shoulder, where her nails mimicked his teeth, digging into the flesh of his back.

"George," she whined his name. He grunted and pulled back, giving her hair a yank to gain her attention, as if it could be focused anywhere but on him.

"Don't fuckin' call me George," he snarled. "Y'know what my name is."

She gazed up at him, eyes still defiant even under lids made heavy by lust. "I'm not calling you that," she purred at him, making it sound like an invitation. It was. He accepted, sealing his mouth to hers roughly, teeth clacking against her own. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, curling his own around it possessively. He removed his hand from the back of her pants and went after the front, working her belt free with quick, nimble fingers she longed to feel manipulate _her_ so easily.

Tamry grunted softly, admonishingly, and patted the flat of the boomerang against his arm. Digger pulled back again, looking at her with an expression that mocked contrition.

"Can y'blame me, darl'?" he smirked knowingly. She shook her head, but leaned back away from him. The mockery faded from his face, being replaced by disappointment and resignation, but he didn't stop her. He let his hand slide from her hair, both his paws moving to rest on the outsides of her thighs. She realized he thought she was stopping this before it went too far and that brought a smug grin to her mouth. She trailed the boomerang down his arm, tapping it against the back of his hand when she reached it. He took the weapon from her, but before he could put it away, she spoke up.

"Don't you dare cut me," she warned in a firm, if breathy tone. He looked perplexed by her words, until she leaned further back, resting her hands on his shins for balance, arching her hips upwards in the most blatant invitation she could. He licked his lips and swallowed hard, the hand still on her thigh moving to grip the muscle firmly. She could practically feel his eyes, he was staring so feverishly as he brought the boomerang between them. With surgical skill, he slit the seam of her pants open from ass to fly, then dropped his beloved weapon to the ground with a light, tinkling clatter. He pulled either side of the slit sharply, ripping the fabric further.

With a soft grunt, he brushed passed her panties, long since soaked by her desire for him, sliding his fingers between the folds of her pussy. Slick and hot, the feel of her so aroused made him groan low in his throat. He immediately pushed one long finger up inside her and Tamry gasped sharply, inner walls clamping down on the intrusion, and his eyes rolled shut, head falling back for a moment.

"Fuckin' 'ell, Tam," he growled, licking his lips again. With what seemed like great effort, he raised his head, all but glaring down at where his hand met her body. He pulled his finger back, then pushed forward again, slowly working the digit inside her. She'd been right, he was playing her nerves like a fiddle and she moaned, arching into his touch. He lifted his other hand to her chest, pulling the remnants of her shirt aside, along with her bra, to bare her other breast. The cold air barely had time to kiss her skin, before his palm covered it, his thumb teasing her nipple. Lower, he mirrored those movements against her clit, which throbbed and tingled madly.

"Oh, fuck, that feels so good," she whimpered. Her fingers flexed against his shins, nails trying to claw through his jeans.

"I just bet it does," he purred, far deeper and more wanton than she'd ever heard before. "Ya' darlin' little cunt's so hungry for me, doesn't want to let my finger go."

Being American, that probably sounded far more vulgar to her than it did to him, but she absolutely loved it. He pushed deeper, then withdrew and she squeezed his finger tight, half intentionally, as if to prove his words true. He chuckled arrogantly.

"'Ere, love, I'll feed her some more," he said in a tone as smooth as hot syrup. A second finger teased against her, but didn't made good on his offer. "If y'ask me sweetly."

"Please, I want more," she begged immediately, without an ounce of shyness. Another chuckle was all she got.

"No, Tem Tam, y'gotta do it proper," he admonished, pinching her nipple as a reminder. She bit her lip hard, rocking her hips against his hand, but said nothing. "If y'say my name, I'll give you what y'want."

She locked her eyes on his, peering at him from under her lashes, pupils already blown out from want of him. "You'll do it anyway," Tamry declared, doubtless. "You want to see how tight I really am."

His superior smirk split into a wide grin and his gold tooth glinted at her like a wink. "Fair dinkum, darl'," he admitted and pushed the second finger inside her. She moaned loudly as his digits stretched her throbbing channel, eyes squeezing shut against the rush of heat and pleasure he caused.

"Fff _uck_ ," he hissed. She felt the odd sensation of his fingers moving inside her. Not thrusting, but sort of squirming around, as if he were seeking a weak spot. With a whine, she realized he was just doing it for the sake of feeling how restrictive her pussy really was; testing the tightness for satisfaction's sake. The sound prompted him to stop playing and get back on task and he started fucking her with the digits properly, harder and faster than before.

Rolling her hips down against his hand, she panted heavily, her breath painting her pleasure on the air between them. He curled his fingers forward, hitting the spot inside that made her see stars, and she cried out. Heat coiled low in her belly, her thighs tingling in anticipation. Boomerang was very good at this, putting his impressive dexterity to use on her most sensitive nerves to mind blowing effect. He was too good, she recognized too late, keeping her body on the edge of release, but not letting her go over the precipice.

She groaned plaintively and tried to take matters into her own hands. Literally. The woman released his leg, bringing her fingers to aid his thumb against her clit. Harkness caught her wrist in a painful grip, pulling her hand away with a scolding cluck of his tongue.

"Ah, ah, love. No cheating," he laughed cruelly. "Y'know what I want."

She scowled at him, but kept her lips pressed firmly together. He only grinned, supremely confident that she would give in to him. He pressed his thumb hard against her clit, pinning it to her public bone in a way that was more uncomfortable than pleasurable, yet still made her yearn for more.

"Just say my name and I'll let y'come on my fingers," he promised, grinding the pad of his thumb against the throbbing nub beneath. With a throaty squeak of discomfort mixed with lust, she leaned forward and grabbed his wrist herself.

"I don't want to come on your fingers," she growled at the domineering man. His eyebrows quirked skeptically at her declaration, but understanding quickly followed when she let him go and reached for his fly. He laughed, blue eyes hot, but amused by her bold claim.

"Oh, darl'," he chortled the words. "Y'don't know where I've been."

"I know exactly where you've been," she huffed, popping the button without hesitation and tugging the zipper down. It was true. Just as Flag had access to her confidential medical files, so Sheer had access to the rest of the team's. She knew that he'd had measles as a boy, knew every trip to the ER after a drunken night out turned violent. She knew about the emergency surgery to treat a trio of stab wounds to his side. She knew he'd had the clap when he was twenty. She knew he was clean and had been locked in a prison cell for eight months with only his hand for company. "And I know exactly where I want you."

"Tell me," he half whispered, sending a shiver rippling up her spine. She looked him in the eyes, no shame in her own gaze, only need for him.

"I want your cock inside me," she said, matching his soft tone, desire coating each syllable. "I want you so deep in my pussy I can taste it."

He growled approvingly of her words and let go of her wrist. He flattened his hand on the ground for leverage, lifting his hips so she could tug his jeans down enough to free his cock. He wore nothing beneath, unsurprisingly, and once they were out of the way, it arched up, slapping lightly against his belly. She lost her breath at the sight of him. Thick and flushed deeply, shining with the precum that seeped from the tip. It twitched, like a separate, living thing, drawing her hand towards it with the undeniable impulse to touch and stroke. She curled her fingers around the shaft, hotter than even his mouth had been and so hard.

He shuddered, groaning under her tentative caress and that made her bolder. Tamry squeezed his dick, running her hand up and down it once, then again. It was like velvet against her palm and she instantly felt the urge to worship it. He _should_ be worshipped, in every way her body could manage. Digger wrapped his hand around hers with a guttural sound that wasn't quite human.

"See what y'been doin' to me?" he snarled, as if angry. Maybe he was. "Every fuckin' day, Tam. Hard as a bloody diamond for you."

The woman felt like she should apologize, but truly, she just wished she'd really known, so she could have enjoyed the torment she'd been causing him. She never knew she had such a cruel streak in her. He was showing her all sorts of new things tonight. She caught his wrist again, pulling his hand away from her with a whimper of loss. Brazenly, she shoved his wet, shining fingers up to his mouth and he eagerly took them in, growling as he tasted her for the first time. His cock jerked against her palm, just as eager for a taste.

"Fuck me, then," she challenged softly, pleadingly. Another man might have pointed out that they were on an open street with only a car for cover. That anyone could see. That it was freezing cold and this could wait the ten minutes it would take for them to find some sort of shelter and privacy. But not the Captain. He sucked his fingers clean and reached beneath her, tearing her panties like tissue paper. He grabbed her hips, pulling her forward, over his waiting erection.

"Take it in, then," he ordered. She swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath as she tilted his cock away from his body and towards her own. She gasped as the tip brushed against her lips. He drew her down, the head of his dick nudging its way between her slickened folds. "Go slow, darl'. Ya' a tiny thing."

It was good advice. He felt so much bigger sinking into her than he had even in her hand. Too big, too hard. She groaned, feeling like he was splitting her in two, but didn't stop. She wanted the pain, craved it, just so long as he filled her up. His groan matched hers, his strong fingers bit into her hips, the muscles roped along his arms tightening like steel cables. No one could call Boomerang a patient man and before he was halfway inside her, he lifted her back up, then pulled her right back down, driving deeper into her.

She gritted her teeth on a grunt, eyes squeezing shut tight against the burning of him stretching her insides too far. He moaned, head back, lost in pleasure as he did it again, then again, fucking her down further onto his cock with every stroke. Tamry gripped his arms, nails protesting at the way the leather fought them, bending one or two back painfully. That was nothing compared to the impalement she was subjecting herself to. She was so wet that he slid easily enough, he was just so thick, so rigid it hurt. He persisted, soon burying himself fully within her. She could feel the curls at the base of his dick against the apex of her thighs, his balls warm against her rear.

Her head fell forward and she tried to catch her breath, but he didn't let her. Giving her no chance to adjust or collect herself, he lifted her again, almost to the point where he'd have slipped out of her completely, then pulled her down his full length with enough force to make her cry out. He seemed to like that, so did it again. She all but sobbed that time. He growled in his chest, grinding her against him in a slow circle.

"Ya' cunt is everything I dreamed, Tem Tam," he rumbled. He was enjoying himself at least. She forced her eyes open to find his still shut, the lines of his face smoothed by bliss. It was kind of worth the pain. As if he could feel her gaze, his eyes opened, just a ring of bright blue around wide, black hollows of hunger. He pressed his forearm to her spine, making a fist in her hair, pulling her against him. Her breasts pressed against his bared chest, the hair warm and tickling against her nipples; a brush of pleasure against the anguish between her legs.

Digger dropped his mouth to hers, forcing his tongue inside, then withdrawing it, then again, mimicking his cock inside her as he forced her up and down again, his hand cupping the back of her thigh now. She whined pitifully into his kiss. Her fingers wove into his hair and pulled hard, unconsciously trying to transfer her pain unto him. He bit her tongue, then soothed it with his own. She could feel his heart pounding against her own ribs, the strong, fast thumping somehow both a comfort and incentive. _She_ was doing that to him. _She_ was what had made him hard enough to hurt.

Emboldened by this knowledge, Tamry took the initiative to roll her hips against his, pressing down harder as he moved her the way he wanted. He moaned in approval, squeezing her thigh encouragingly. She shifted, arching her body experimentally, trying to find an angle that lessened the harsh ache. All at once, a sliver of pleasure sliced through the cloud of pain as she rolled just the right way down his length and the head of his cock brushed against her starry spot. She gasped sharply, breaking the kiss, but immediately reclaimed his mouth with renewed fervor. She hit the spot again and the anguish began to recede as a fresh flood of heat and sensation washed through her body.

"Oh, that feels good," she whimpered into his mouth, sounding surprised and needy. He let out a raw sound that was both command and praise, using his superior strength to help her move the same way, but with far more force. She cried out against his lips, her head straining against his hold, trying to fall back as she was suddenly bombarded with pleasure. The pressure built fast within her, need and heat coiling tighter and tighter as his cock scoured her nerve endings raw. He wouldn't let her face fall away from his, his arm immovable against her back, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Give up to me, Tam," he ordered, harsh and raspy. "Fuckin' break."

He was pure dominance in that moment, possessive and demanding, undeniable. She shattered. The first spasm jolted through her like a punch, wrenching a high shout from her throat. She clamped down around his cock, arching hard against his body, shuddering as the orgasm tore through her. Tamry sobbed his name, holding on so tight her knuckles cracked, as waves of ecstasy slammed her body. Digger's hand bruised her thigh, pulling her down hard against him as his thighs shook beneath her. He barked her name, grinding his forehead against hers, and he exploded inside her. She cried out pathetically, lost in him, in the joy her body took from his and gave back again.

The storm washed over them and passed, leaving the two panting, each clinging to the other. He was shaking again and so was she, breathing in his air as if it were the only source in the world. The hellfire hadn't touched her, yet she still felt scorched and tender. If not for his solid form to lean on, she'd have melted right into the pavement and been happy about it. She was happy now. Happy and full and without a shred of regret.

She stroked her fingers through his hair, kissing him softly. "Oh, my God, Digger," she breathed. He growled against her lips like an angry dog, his fingers fisting harshly in her own hair. Suddenly, he rocked forward, pulling her hard against his chest and twisting to the side, getting up on his knees, taking her with him. He slammed her back against the lowrider, the metal so cold against her feverish, sweat sheened skin that she shouted.

"I told y'what my fuckin' name is," he snarled the words with startling ferocity. Pinning her in place with his chest, holding her up with the hand on her thigh, he drew his hips back and snapped them forward, all but ramming himself into her. Tamry shouted again, raw and pleading. He didn't stop, fucking into her hard enough to rock the car at her back.

The pain returned, like he was tearing her. He might be. But he knew how to move, now, rolling his hips with each brutal thrust to blind her with pleasure along with the pain. Her nails scored his neck, scraping uselessly at his coat. He quickly shrugged it all off - the coat, the jacket, what was left of the tank - encouraging her to mark him, to cut into his flesh.

His mouth attacked her throat and shoulders, sucking and biting, marking her, himself, again and again. His chops and sharp stubble abraded her skin. It didn't tickle, it burned, it scoured, leaving the flesh red and sore. And she wanted more. He lifted his head, pressing his temple to hers, panting and grunting into her ear.

"Say it," he commanded. "Moan my name."

She couldn't have even if she wanted to, barely able to draw breath for the cries he was forcing out of her. He abruptly gentled his thrusts, lifting her leg higher, pushing it aside, and stroking his hand against the sensitive inside towards where they were joined. He gripped the back of her neck as though she were an unruly youth, his powerful fingers squeezing her spine.

"Ya' darlin', _precious_ little slit is mine, now, Tam," Harkness purred viciously. "I'm inside you for the rest of ya' life. Every time some other bloke slips y'his cock, you'll be thinkin' of ol' Captain. You'll be missin' my rod deep in ya' cunt and you'll come so fuckin' hard."

"Yes, please!" She begged. Tamry wanted what he said to be true. She wanted to feel him inside her for the rest of her life. His fingers were leaving new bruises on her inner thigh that she never wanted to fade. He drew back and slammed himself into her, his pelvis crashing against hers pitilessly. She wailed, clawing at his shoulders.

"Can y'taste it, yet?" he grunted the words, smug and brutish. The shocks squeaked as he continued to fuck her savagely. Power and possession, demanding and urgent need. He owned her in that moment. He kissed her fiercely, groaning brokenly as his rhythm faltered, his breathing turned ragged.

He was going to come again, she realized. Her stomach twisted with lust. He was in control, but she was still the cause. He was the explosive, but she was the match. He would come _for her_.

And then he did come for her, with an inhuman bellow of pleasure and dominion. His cock thickened and pulsed within her, spilling his cum against her womb, deep enough she might have tasted it. The spark inside her ignited and the fire spiraled out of control. Her nails cut into his back, drawing blood, as she came apart for the second time. The climax slammed into her harder than even his body against hers and Tamry sobbed, loud and pitiful and glorious.

He took her mouth, ravenously swallowing the sound of her pleasure because it was his due. The hand on the back of her neck softened, cupping her spine, his thumb brushing gently below her ear. He wrapped her legs around his waist, sitting back on his heels and holding her close as if suddenly realizing she was a fragile, precious thing in his arms. She certainly felt that way, clinging to him, shivering with the aftermath of their passion. He kissed her again and again, breaking away only for the bliss of returning. She petted his flesh reverently, adoringly.

Tamry never wanted to move. She wanted to stay with him in that moment forever. Where he wasn't a convict and she wasn't a cop and they weren't separated by anything but air. Where he was equal parts violence and tenderness, pain and pleasure. Where she could let her guard down and feel him in every place she'd kept locked safely away.

But the real world intruded, as it always does, and the radio attached to her vest crackled to life. Flag announced their evac incoming. Ten minutes. Cruel.

Her undershirt was ruined, as was his tank; they were left on the pavement. She pulled on her overshirt, only two buttons remaining to hold it closed at all. He pulled on his coat, buttoning it closed over his bare chest, but wrapped his blue jacket around her shoulders. It fell to mid-thigh on her, concealing the condition of her pants and, once zipped, her shirt as well. She smiled up at him gratefully. He smiled back down at her with warmth and affection and no small amount of self conceit, naturally. The jacket said Captain across the chest, after all.

Her skin was too sensitive after the fire, the cold, and Boomerang's merciless attentions for even the thought of putting her vest back on, so she just carried it, the Kevlar brushing against her leg as they walked to the rendezvous point. Her free hand gripped a little bit of his coat, just to be holding him in some way, hanging on to that moment. He rested one large hand on the back of her shoulder, looming close and protective.

No one asked where they had been, it had been a hectic, stressful night. No one looked twice at her in his jacket, it was freezing out. No one mentioned their uncharacteristic silence, everyone was exhausted. No one gave her a second glance, save for Harley, because of course Harley would notice something different. The bubbly blonde caught her eye, smiled wide, and winked. Maybe she thought they were two peas in a pod now. There was a scary notion.

They boarded the helicopter, each falling wearily into their seat and strapping in. The Captain quickly dropped off to sleep, but the back of his hand was pressed against her thigh and never moved. The others either stared at nothing or nodded off as well. Tamry was spent and so tired, but sleep wouldn't come, not in the helicopter. She rested her hands on her thighs, brushing the tip of her pinky against the back of Digger's thumb, because that was all she had the balls to do.

The detective tried not to think about what tomorrow would bring. She'd definitely stepped off the curb this time and there was no going back, but she didn't know what lay ahead. She didn't even know what lay between her and the man at her side. Not that she would take back a second of it. She wouldn't part with a single bruise, not an iota of achiness - and she certainly ached after the things he'd done to her.

Tamry smirked. She still hadn't called him Captain.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! You like? Feedback feeds the withered soul, you know.
> 
> Got another chapter in the pipe, but dunno when it'll be finished.


	5. Rules? What Rules?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tamry goes to see Digger to work out a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, been so long. Sorry. Got caught up in Eric and Honey over at The Little Dauntless Girl. Then Writer's Block reared it's ugly head. And then Steve Rogers showed up and refuses to get the fuck outta my brain! So inconsiderate; Steve's usually so polite. Maybe he's confused, since people keep screaming for the Captain. ;)
> 
> Now, much like one would expect, Boomerang has come back around. *giggle* I couldn't help myself. Here's a nice long bit of smut for all of you who have been waiting so patiently.

* * *

Back at Belle Reve, everyone was put on lockdown for debriefing. It was standard, happened after every foray out into the violent world, and normally Tamry didn't think much of it. This time, however, the seclusion felt like both denial and reprieve - she couldn't see Digger and she didn't have to see Digger. The woman wasn't sure which one felt more accurate, it seemed to shift from moment to moment. She knew she _should_ be horrified by her actions; fucking a piece of garbage like Harkness and out in the middle of the street, no less. That wasn't what the detective was feeling at all.

There was no shame, no self loathing, not even an ounce of doubt in Tamry's mind that she had wanted every bit of what happened and would do it exactly the same way, if given the chance. She didn't regret losing her virginity to a man who had over a hundred convictions to his name and was a criminal in at least two countries - not when that man was George Harkness. He wasn't particularly sweet or harboring a secret heart of gold - if he was, he stole it. He'd befriended her when using her would have been more to his benefit. He'd saved her life when he could have, should have left her behind. When he'd found a weak spot, a secret vulnerability Tamry hid from the world, the man hadn't taken advantage of it, but tried to shore it up, to close the chink in her armor and leave her stronger than he'd found her.

Digger had _seen_ her in a way no one else had and even if they never touched again, she would never take any of it back. But, God, she wanted to touch him again. Every time she thought about it, which was quite often over the course of the lockdown, her pulse picked up and her skin flushed. Like most girls, Tamry had always wanted her first time to be slow and gentle, in a big, soft bed, with a wonderful man who loved her. Like any pragmatist, she'd expected it to be awkward, messy, and not very good, with a man who was kind of turned on by the fact that he was her first, but kind of turned off by the discomfort it caused and how she didn't really know what she was doing. Being with George was _none_ of those things.

He didn't love her, she didn't think she loved him (didn't want to think about that at all, really). There hadn't been a bed in sight and it had been the antithesis of slow and gentle. No, sex with Digger had been hard and fast and painful and fucking _amazing_. There had been no awkwardness and the fact that she didn't know what she was doing hadn't mattered in the slightest, because _he_ knew what he was doing - God, did he know what he was doing - and he'd wanted her just as badly as she wanted him. Maybe moreso and fuck if that didn't make her wet all over again. Oh yes, Tamry wanted to see him; more than see him.

Sheer, Flag, and Tatsu were cleared after the twenty-four hours, but the rest of the squad had three more days to go. Only Rick had the authorization to interact with the others during debriefing, which left the detective no choice but to wait until everyone was released to their normal schedule again. She hated it, but begrudgingly admitted to herself that it was for the best. She was more than a little sore after all Boomerang's brutal treatment.

The first time Tamry tried to do anything about the reaction her body had to the memory of _his_ body, the sharp twinge of pain had made her gasp and immediately shut down that whole endeavor. The next day had been better, thankfully, and so on and by the end of lockdown, the woman was practically chomping at the bit. She didn't know exactly _how_ they'd get away with being together at Belle Reve, but when their first coupling had taken place in the open, on a public street, the woman knew anyplace they wouldn't be interrupted would be good enough.

Even with all that heat coursing through her and the insistent need to see Digger, hear his voice, watch him flash that teasing, dirty smile he often wore for her and know that there was real lust and carnal knowledge behind it, Tamry remained locked away in her room that morning. The night they'd all flown back to the prison in the chopper, everyone had been exhausted and no one - with the possible exception of Quinn - noticed the shift in dynamic between the cop and the thief. At breakfast, Flag would be his normal, hyper-alert self and the others would be relatively wide awake and taking in everyone and everything around them with eyes sharp and hungry for stimuli after four days of solitudinous deprivation. Nothing would go unnoticed and, knowing the team like she did, Tamry had no doubt it wouldn't go unmentioned either.

Since the detective didn't work for Belle Reve, having sex with Harkness didn't violate any kind of laws. She wasn't taking advantage of a prisoner, it wasn't rape. Technically, they were all coworkers and only Flag held a position of authority, making him the only one who could be censured for having an "inappropriate" relationship with a member of the team. Seeing as how he was definitely sleeping with June and no such censure had occurred, Sheer wasn't concerned with any sort of disciplinary consequences being leveled against her. It was far simpler than that. She was nervous.

The woman had no experience dealing with the aftermath of a sexual encounter. She had the same deficit in familiarity when it came to a romantic relationship - if what she had with Digger even _was_ romantic. Or a relationship. She had no way of knowing exactly how the man would behave once they were together again. He'd kept quiet and subdued after the act itself, but that didn't guarantee he wouldn't shout it from the rooftops the moment he was freed from his cell. Lord knew the man liked to talk, craved attention, and loved to brag. Telling everyone he'd been balls deep in Temerity Sheer would definitely satisfy all of the above. The detective didn't _think_ she'd be overly embarrassed, but she couldn't really be sure until it happened.

Most of all, she knew they had to have a serious talk about what had gone on the other night and what that meant for the future. And she definitely did not want to have that talk anywhere within earshot of the rest of the squad or guards. She could already see the reaction of each member of the team in her mind's eye. Croc would ignore it. Chato would quietly disapprove, shaking his head and looking away. Tatsu would be bewildered that Tamry should debase herself with a sleezeball like Digger. Floyd would get a cynical chuckle out of the whole thing. Harley would probably squeal like a thirteen year old and declare that she always knew they were perfect together, then ask a bunch of inappropriate questions about the act itself. June, like a good shrinking violet, would be embarrassed and look to Rick. Rick would absolutely lose his shit.

Yeah. No, Tamry definitely needed that first conversation to be one on one. So, she waited in her room, knowing if George said anything untoward at breakfast, Rick would come beating a path to her door. Flag might cause her problems when he found out, might even threaten to have her kicked off the squad if she didn't end things with Harkness. Threaten, but not follow through. The soldier knew the detective was an asset to the team, someone they - and more importantly _he_ \- could rely on when shit hit the fan as it always did. They'd already lost one teammate and Flag wouldn't risk weakening the squad any further. And he might bitch about it, but he really didn't have a leg to stand on when it came to making a less than wise choice of fuck-buddy. June was nice enough, but she was also one whispered word away from shifting into a primeval hell-bitch. Every relationship has its issues. Tamry's was a mouthy, borderline alcoholic thief; Rick's was a mud-smeared proto-witch that probably sucked the juice out of people's eyeballs before dropping them into her cauldron.

* * *

Sheer waited until rec time to make her appearance, stepping out onto the yard and making her way to her customary spot by the fence. She didn't sit, because the ground was cold and damp from an early morning rain shower. It wasn't yet cold enough to turn the wetness to ice, but still too chilly for her to willingly give herself a frozen ass. Leaning against the sandbags, her hands stuffed deep into her coat pockets - her own coat, not the shiny, blue "Captain" jacket still tucked safely back in her room - and waited.

Floyd and Croc were already outside. The latter was doing bicep curls with enough weight that Tamry wondered if he'd ever thought about trying for the Olympics, the former sitting on the bench press seat, gazing upwards, taking in the cloudy sky like water to slake his thirst. Chato was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't surprise her.

After his very nearly fatal breakdown, the quiet man would have retreated into himself and crawled back inside the specially designed containment pod he was confined to when prison officials felt he was a threat. Santana would have gone in at his own request this time. Tamry knew she needed to have a talk with him - _someone_ did and Harley was the only other person likely to step up, which would undoubtedly be a _bad_ idea. The man needed time, however, or he wouldn't even listen, so she would give him more time.

As if the old adage "Speak of the Devil and he shall appear" were true, a blonde bundle of homicidal, yet puppyish energy came bouncing out onto the yard. Dressed what had once been a pale, peach-cream prison jumpsuit, but now more closely resembled lederhosen, Harley did a series of exuberant cartwheels, squealing with glee as she went, then stopped and threw her arms out wide. She spun in place, head back, eyes closed, breathing the open air with deep satisfaction. Sheer had been born in Gotham and could handle the cold as well as anyone, but even she felt a displaced shiver seeing those long, ghostly legs exposed to the damp, icy air. Once her imitation of a dervish was finished, the pretty psychopath looked around the area and her eyes landed on Tamry leaning there against the wall. Quinn made a beeline straight for the detective, her blue eyes bright and sparkling with mischief.

Even knowing her for as long as she had and despite the ardent assertion that they were friends, Sheer still felt a reflexive thrill of fear as the other woman skipped towards her. In a smooth, fluid motion that the less-agile detective envied, Harley placed one fine, slim hand on a topmost sandbag and vaulted herself effortlessly onto the wall. Perched like a vicious, yet colorful bird of prey, Quinn grinned down at Tamry and snapped her gum insolently.

"Long time no see, doll face," she said, as smarmy as any 1940s ladies' man. She titled her head, studying the other woman a bit more intensely than her subject would have liked, but not in a way that seemed intentionally intimidating. "You don't look much different. You're just kinda pinky."

Tamry blinked up at her, perplexed by the commentary. "It's chilly."

"Yeah, I know. S'what I'm sayin'," Harley nodded, as if they perfectly understood each other. "Anybody who didn't know any better, wouldn't. Know any better. You know what I mean?"

"I have no idea what you mean," Sheer admitted. Nothing to gain from pretending she could always keep up with the good doctor - Quinn already knew that wasn't the case.

"They say you're supposed to _glow_ for a while after," the blonde clarified with much thoughtful earnestness. "I was too busy studyin' to check myself when I got my card punched. I thought maybe I'd see it in you. Poop."

First, Tamry frowned in confusion, trying to puzzle out what Quinn was talking about, then her frown was one of horror as the meaning became crystal clear. There were two possibilities: either Harley had figured out on her own somehow that Sheer was a virgin, which wasn't particularly implausible given her former profession, or, more appalling, George had sold her out. She had given it 50/50 odds that he'd spout off about their illicit rendezvous, but the spilling of that particular morsel had never so much as made a footnote in her considerations. The thought that she could have misjudged him settled in her gut like she'd swallowed one of the damp, frigid sandbags at her back.

Harley's shrill chirping cut into her moment of sickened doubt. "Oh, that's more like it!" she sang out, alight with pleasure, pointing with one long finger, tipped with chipping sparkly, blue polish that almost touched the tip of Tamry's nose. "You look like you could lead Santa's sleigh and save Christmas right about now!"

Sheer scowled, batting the hand away before thinking better of it. Touching Quinn was high on her list of _Shit You Should Never Do_. The homicidal pixie only cackled delightedly and clapped her hands on her pale, scabby knees. Tamry looked towards Flag's operations center, which now sported a small area heater to fend off the cold. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and he hadn't burst a blood vessel screaming at her, so he must not know.

"So, did he just tell you or everyone but Flag?" the furious and dismayed woman asked in a quiet voice rough from the tightness in her throat. She hadn't expected to react this way, but she also hadn't expected Boomerang to act like the villainous anti-love interest in a teen drama, either. Sheer couldn't decide who she was more disgusted by at the moment, Harkness or herself.

Harley actually looked surprised by the question, then her pretty face screwed up in a tight, displeased pucker one might objectively call adorable if not for the situation and the many corpses to her name.

"Ya' shouldn't a' skipped breakfast."

"You think I hurt his feelings?" Tamry's frown deepened at the ridiculous notion. Quinn just rolled her eyes with an exasperated huff and she pursed her lips at the detective, clearly annoyed the woman wasn't keeping up.

"You know, the reason us bad guys run circles around you heroic types is you got a real problem with communication," she declared. "Georgie Porgie made a big stink about how he deserved a beer and decided to mix it up with some a' the guards." Which brought a joyous, but fleeting smile to Quinn's face. "He's back on lockdown. Didn't even finish his eggs."

Tamry felt like two opposing waves were rolling over her from either side. Digger hadn't actually said or done anything to let on what had happened between them and that was sweet relief that cooled the boil from her blood, but she'd so easily believed it of him _and_ hadn't been there that morning and that made her feel guilty as hell. She scrubbed a hand over her face and grunted in frustration. How long had he gotten himself locked down for? How long did she have to wait _now_? Beside her, Harley braced her palms between her legs and slowly stretched the long limbs out to the side in an impressive split along the top of the wall.

"Must be hard bein' a goody two shoes," she mused, arching forward with perfect balance, sinuously raising herself into a handstand. _Show-off._ "All those rules between you and what you want."

Right. Rules. _Heh._ Tamry lifted one brow, looking over at the upside-down woman beside her, and smirked. "I ain't _that_ good, doc."

* * *

"Come on, sweetheart, I know you feel it. You got a car? Listen, I'm a brilliant driver; what say we take a little spin, yeah?" Digger's agitated barking echoed off the steel and concrete that lined the open corridor running down the center of the "Waller Block" where he was housed. Lawton's cell was also located in this nearly abandoned portion of the prison, along with Chato's (when the pyrokinetic wasn't sealed in his tank) and, until he'd died, Weiss's. Harley's special Hannibal Lecter-esque set up was located in what had been an indoor rec area at the end of the block and Croc's specialty housing was on the basement level below.

The brash Aussie was clearly still running high off that morning's altercation and making a nuisance of himself, pestering the female - and, in all honesty, rather pretty - guard that had been assigned his detail and the joy of standing outside his door for hours everyday. She must have really pissed someone off. The other guards had a pool running to see when she'd either quit or shoot him through the little window in the cell door. Tamry and Lawton both had money on her just punching him one day while he jabbered obscenities and nonsense at her with his face half pressed through the opening.

As Tamry approached, the fully armed woman must have been feeling the temptation, because she slid the window shut with a quick, sharp movement. The door vibrated in its framing as Captain Boomerang unloaded on it in outrage.

"Come on!" he bellowed, muffled by the heavily reinforced steel. "Hey!"

Sheer held in her snicker, but left her smirk in place. She sauntered down the hallway, giving the impression of cool indifference while her insides were twisting and writhing like a sack of angry snakes, anticipation and trepidation slithering and coiling around each other so tightly knotted they might as well be the same thing. She stopped before the guard, who was looking resolutely ahead and doing her best to ignore the garbled ranting coming from inside the cell at her back.

"Open it up."

"Ma'am, I'm not-"

"Blah, blah, blah," the detective cut off the guard's earnest protest. Her tone was bored, but her stance and eyes were dominant, fully confident in her authority - even though her standing on the matter was flimsy at best. The guards didn't know that. "He's on lockdown. You're supposed to have back-up. I know, I know, and I don't actually care."

"You can't be alone in a cell with an inmate," the woman, designated B-54 on her uniform, insisted. Under the normal apathy and mild derision that was ubiquitous to all the COs, there was a thin current of concern - though that might just be for her own ass if anything happened to Tamry on her watch.

"I can kinda do whatever I want," Sheer told her, bobbing her head and wincing in faux apology. She lifted the little red badge she wore around her neck declaring her Priority One, All Access. Flag had a similar badge, but never wore it. He didn't have to remind people he was top dog, which always irked her. Tamry lifted her brows and motioned for B-54 to do as instructed. Reluctantly - _very_ reluctantly - the guard complied.

The door swung open with a squeal of the rusty hinges, just wide enough for Tamry to slip into the gap. Digger had been facing the back wall, shouting up at the camera mounted at the top of his cell, protected by a metal housing bolted to the wall and a small pane of shatterproof glass. He whirled in surprise at the sound of the door, brow furrowed and mouth pursed up at the side in a slightly bemused expression, expecting guards, expecting violence.

"Changed ya'…" his cocky remark trailed off into shocked silence when he saw Tamry there. Blue eyes popped wide as every impressive muscle froze, face falling in surprise, open enough she could see a hint of fear there at the sight of her. While she wasn't entirely certain what to make of that just yet, she _did_ appreciate the importance of it. The door shut and locked with a hollow ka-thunk. Boomerang blinked rapidly, swallowing hard once. His voice was almost quiet and not even almost steady when he said, "Tam. What're y'doin' here?"

"Breaking some rules," she smirked, taking a moment to just take him in as he struggled to regain his composure - what little of it the perpetual jackass had to begin with. He was shirtless, his jumpsuit bunched around his waist and secured with the sleeves knotted below his navel, and covered in sweat from his loud antics. There were tattoos she hadn't seen before, due to the low light and her own distraction - a thin rope around his left forearm, some crudely done shapes on the right, a written reference she didn't get on the ball of that shoulder, and a large 'MUM' over his heart. Her fingers itched at the sense memory of what it felt like to have that skin under her hands, even as her visual memory told her displeasedly that there were bruises on his torso that had most definitely not been there four days ago. Her heart skipped a beat and pounded that much harder from the combination of lust and anger sluicing through her circulatory system.

"Y'shouldn't be down here, darl'," the man told her, his surprised expression giving way to a frown, then a sneering smirk. "I been a bad boy and I'm not allowed to have friends over."

"Like I'd let that stop me?" Tamry challenged, stepping towards him and tipping her head to the side with a tiny, insolent grin. Digger's smirk faltered, then rallied, but now was more scornful than anything. It was Tamry's turn to waver. "If I didn't know any better, I might think you weren't happy to see me, George."

His skylight gaze fell from hers as he shrugged in response. One large hand lifted to rub uncomfortably at the back of his neck, his face pinching into a sympathetic cringe. His verbal reply was waylaid as the man apparently only just now remembered his state of undress. It was odd to say the least to watch Captain Boomerang, the man who performed simulated cunnilingus on fruit and fucked in public, blush in apparent modest embarrassment. The sight of that pretty pink tinge across his cheeks set Tamry to tingling. The effect was doubled and her breath hitched when she saw that the color echoed across his collarbones and shoulders, curling up the shells of his ears. She wanted to trace every inch of that sweet flush with her tongue.

"Y'don't belong in here, Tam," he said, untying his makeshift belt and tugging the jumpsuit up his torso. "Y'need to go."

Sheer took in their surroundings and nodded. She didn't belong there. The cell was essentially a seven by ten foot cement box with a high, thin window so smeared with grime it may as well not be there at all. The reinforced steel door was the only point of access and the only other openings in the concrete were the small air vent beside the camera and a drain set into the middle of the floor. A thin mattress that was too short for all of Digger's six foot plus self to fit on lay directly on the ground, tucked against the left wall, covered in a navy blue sheet, one sad looking pillow and a rumpled gray blanket on top. A pile of motorcycle magazines (and one that had a motorcycle on the cover, but judging by the lady straddling it wearing just a thong and sultry expression, probably wasn't quite like the others) and books took up the corner behind the door. The right back corner was home to a stainless steel toilet with no seat and a sink/water fountain built into the top.

No, she definitely didn't belong in there. Factually, George Harkness was a convicted criminal with over a hundred offenses under his belt, thus he belonged in jail - in a cell, like this. Subjectively, Tamry withered inside seeing how the man lived. She'd never watched the video footage available, never visited his cell before, so she'd never seen what it actually looked like. The detective always assumed it was similar to every other prison cell she'd seen - Spartan, but not unlivable, with an actual cot up off the ground to sleep on, at the very least.

Boomerang shoved his arm into his sleeve, pushing passed the distracted detective to knock his knuckle against the closed window. "Oi! Get this Sheila outta my cell!" he demanded.

As Tamry turned to remain facing the blustering Aussie, a flash of color amidst the dingy gray caught her eye. She moved instead further into the cell, bending to tug back the blanket.

"The fuck?" The inarticulate question came out in the high key of incredulous at the sight of a stuffed animal laying on George's bedding, specifically a unicorn. Very specifically a pink, plush, _smiling_ unicorn with a _sparkly_ horn. She'd heard the guards throw around the word "plushophile" but had thought it was just smack talk. _Dear, sweet baby Jesus._

A metallic scrape signaled the opening of the window. "Are you in danger, Detective Sheer?"

"No. We're good," Tamry responded without looking as she picked up the doll. The slot snapped shut again.

"Hey!" Digger yelped. He slammed an open palm against the door. "What if I'm in danger, eh? I got rights!"

"You scared, Digger?" Sheer asked teasingly. "Is that what this is for?"

He glanced back at her with a scowl and did a highly amusing double-take upon seeing that she had ahold of his little friend. "Put that down!"

The man was clearly aiming for authoritative and sharp, but what he hit was quite a bit squeakier. He snatched at the plush, but Tamry just bounced back out of his reach with a laugh.

"But she's so _cute_!" she cooed, saccharin sweet, hugging the toy to her chest like a child. "Does she have a name? Is it _Princess_?"

George scratched his fingers through his chops with a gurgle of disgust and irritation. "Just give it back and _go_. What're y'even doin' here, Tam?"

Her playful countenance turned sincere and maybe a little more unguarded than she would have liked. "I wanted to see you."

"Y'coulda done that at brekky," he pointed out, lifting one brow. Now it was Tamry who couldn't look him in the eye. She shrugged, picking at the unicorn's snowy mane.

"I was nervous," she admitted. It was pointless to beat around the bush. It wasn't like she hadn't already let him in - in pretty much every way. He knew her embarrassing secrets and vulnerabilities, what was one more? "I wanted to talk to you without everyone listening."

He sighed, short and sharp. "Come on, darl'. Y'had a bit a' fun with the Captain. No need to fret over it; I'm not made a' spun sugar."

Sheer's gaze snapped back to Boomerang, startled by his candid pronouncement. He was smiling at her reassuringly. His eyes were dulled by the yellowed light filtering through the dingy plastic covering on the fluorescent bulb, but still bright and warm as he looked back at her.

She returned his candor in kind. "It's not like that. I wanted to know where we go from here."

George regarded her silently for a long moment, then licked his lips. "The first place y'need to go is out of here before y'get into trouble," he instructed firmly. She snorted at the idea. He reached out again, this time for her and not the doll, ostensibly to bodily shove her out the door, but she moved back again, out of his reach. He gave her a look of consternation. "Go, Tam. We can talk later, when I'm off restriction."

"I don't want to talk later; I want to talk _now_ ," Sheer insisted, with gravity. The frustrated man ran a hand through his wild mop of a Mohawk before planting his hands on his hips and glaring at the ground. A low growl rumbled up from his chest and Tamry's stomach dipped as the sound rolled over her ears. His jumpsuit still hung open and despite trying to cover up and not be so exposed, Harkness had only managed to create an even more salacious image. Instead of simply being shirtless, a thick strip of his torso was bared from the neck down to just above his groin, showing off the center of his burly chest, the washboard of his abs, and the darkest of the curls that adorned his body. He looked like part of a Playgirl calendar - George Harkness, Mr. October, naughty jailbird.

"Actually, I _don't_ want to talk right now," Tamry said, consciously recognizing how breathy her voice had gone and not caring a whit. Digger lifted his head and she could see him notice the change in timbre and whatever hungry expression she now wore, how his eyes widened just a touch and his lips parted. She remembered the taste of those lips so clearly and her mouth watered for more.

"Put those eyes away, Tam. Ya' leavin'," he warned, but there was a slight tremble to his voice that gave him away. Her lips curled upwards slowly. He kept telling her to leave, but he never said the one thing that would guarantee it.

"You don't want me?" the woman asked, soft and only half coy.

"Y'go bonkers in the last four days?" Boomerang demanded, fully exasperated and fed up with her nonsense. "'Course I want you, but that's not the bloody point!" Her sultry smile was obliterated by the elated one that replaced it. "No, stop that! Y'can't be serious, darl'."

"Oh, I'm serious," she disagreed, apparently far too eager for his peace of mind.

"So am I," he declared. "I'm not about to have you in this fuckin' _pit_."

"Digger, we were on a city street last time."

He ground his teeth, unable to counter that fact, because neither of them had given a single fuck about where they'd been located. His cell was dirty, but it wasn't any worse. His eyes flicked upwards and his upper lip curled in furious disgust.

"We were alone last time, too. Not with these fuckin' pigs watchin'," he tossed a hand towards the camera along with a repulsed grunt. Right, the camera. "Not gonna let those garbage fucks get an eyeful."

A sickening roll of nausea reminded Tamry that she was in full view of the security feed. They _might_ have gotten caught out on the street four nights ago, by strangers or maybe Flag or the support team; here they would not only _absolutely_ be seen, but _recorded_ and undoubtedly _played back_. Digger was right, the guards were pigs. She didn't give a shit if they talked behind her back or, really, to her face about hooking up with Captain Boomerang, but knowing they'd _watched_ her do it was another thing entirely. The thought of someone like Alpha-01, the shitbag head of the Squad's security force, seeing her exposed and lost in abandon made her ill.

Distracted by the reminder and rush of revulsion, though she unequivocally shared his view, Tamry didn't _immediately_ acquiesce to his decree and George all but snarled. He stalked forward, crowding her against the wall. Instinctively, the detective retreated as his massive bulk bore down on her, but was trapped in the back corner after only two steps. Boomerang planted his hands on the walls on either side of Sheer's shoulders, bending down so they were eye to eye.

"They don't get to look at you." The words were spoken in a deep, vicious growl that raised the hair on the back of her neck. At the same time it lit a fire low in her belly and her heart started slamming against her ribs. " _No one_ gets to look at you, but me; you understand, Tem Tam?"

Tamry nodded quickly, eyes never leaving his intense gaze. She never wanted anyone else to see her the way she let him. The stormy blue-gray of his irises was slowly being swallowed up by the pitch black abyss of his pupils. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off him, taste his breath as it fell on her open mouth. Her mind raced, trying desperately to find a solution.

"Please, George," she whispered feverishly, pressing her thighs together in vain attempt to quell the needy throb emanating from between them. "There's a blind spot, right? We can just stay right here."

"No."

She whined. Temerity Sheer actually whined. " _Please_ , Digger."

He pulled back and the sound she made then wasn't a whine, but more of a pained gurgle of frustration and pleading. Digger ignored it, turning around, moving to go bang on the door some more. There _was_ a blind spot. The camera was directly above her head, pointed into the cell. She was right that if they stayed in the corner, they'd be out of sight. The audio would still pick them up, but… maybe she could be quiet. She didn't care. No, she didn't give a shit whether they could hear how well Harkness was fucking her as long as he _was fucking her_. So, Tamry did the only thing she could think of to make that happen.

"Please, Captain," she begged softly, sweetly. The effect was instantaneous. George froze, mid-step, and his whole body tensed up, spine straightening like an arrow and lifting the man to his full, towering height. His head turned, the only part of his body that moved, and he peered at her over his shoulder through one narrowed eye, brow arched high on his forehead. _Well, that got his attention._ Tamry went on in that same tone.

"I was so sore at first." She slid one hand down over her stomach to palm herself, as if he needed clarification of just where she'd been sore and reminding of how she'd gotten that way. His eye flicked down to her hand, then back up expectantly. "But, now I just _ache_. I want you so bad, I don't care how or where, just please, _please_ , fuck me."

His hands closed into tight fists, arms flexing for a moment before he slowly opened them again. He was close to giving in, she was sure of it. Yes, she felt a little ridiculous about what she was about to do, but if it got George to give her what she wanted - what they _both_ wanted - Tamry could live with it. She'd done alot worse things in her life. Ducking her head just slightly and leaning it to the side, she snaked out her tongue and trailed the very tip up the length of the unicorn's _sparkly_ horn. Digger's hands immediately became fists again and the man's thick form visibly shuddered.

"Please, _Captain_ ," she whispered, begged one last time.

Harkness broke, whirling around and all but slamming himself into the smaller detective. She dropped the stupid toy and grabbed handfuls of orange fabric, rising up on her toes to meet his mouth as it came down to slant against her own. Digger groaned into her, hunching further and gripping the backs of her thighs to lift Sheer off her feet. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips as he pinned her to the wall, grinding his hard length against the throbbing center of her and forcing a heavy moan up from her lungs. Large hands shifted back from her thighs, cupping her ass and squeezing hard, pulling her against him as he rocked forward.

Tamry whimpered around George's tongue where it had taken up residence inside her mouth as if it owned the place, dominating her own in a way that made her toes curl. Hot and wet and hard and everything she remembered and craved about that night. She went all lightheaded and blearily wondered if the same thing happened to women that was forever joked about with men and the blood rushing from their head to all points south. Not that she minded, the grind of his hardon against her sensitive flesh, even through three layers of cloth was better than any thought she might try to have at the moment. Gone too soon, he nipped her bottom lip with another beautiful growl, panting heavily.

"You'll be the death a' me, darl'," he rumbled. "Put ya' feet back down; I've got to take care of somethin' first."

With some difficulty, Tamry did as instructed, releasing his hips and standing on her own again - or trying to anyway; her weak knees made the wall do most of the work there. While she was still working on putting together a cogent thought beyond how good Digger still tasted, the man reached up and slammed the side of his fist into the camera housing, denting the metal and knocking the whole thing to the side. He grabbed hold and gave it a quick twist and wiggle, stripping the bolts right out of the wall and dusting the top of Tamry's head with crumbs of cement. He dropped the housing aside, then wrenched the camera free, snapping the wires that fed its images to the control room.

"Wait here a second. Don't you move," Digger ordered with a cheeky wink as she gawked at him. He sauntered across the cell, back to the door, and tapped out the supremely recognizable cadence of _Shave and a Haircut_ on the window cover. It slid open.

"Finished, detective?" B-54 asked blandly. George dropped the camera out through the opening. "What the fuck?!"

"Gonna take maintenance, what? Two hours to get down and replace that, yeah?" He stated the question like a fact. "Y'might hear some screamin', sweetheart, but no need to come in and check. Unless y'want to join in."

The window slid shut with a definitive snap that made the man laugh. When he turned back to the detective, she wasn't smiling.

"Did you call her 'sweetheart'?" Tamry demanded, raising a brow of her own, less than cordial. "And invite her to join us?"

George spread his hands at his sides and grinned back at her, unintimidated by the slightly venomous look he was getting. He actually seemed a little pleased by it. "Awe, darl', don't be like that," he crooned ingratiatingly. "Ol' Captain's a one woman bloke, yeah? I'm just a charmin' sort of rogue; can't help it."

Her moment of ire (which, if she was honest was only half serious) was just as easily mollified and Sheer relaxed into the wall. She pursed her lips imperiously. "Good, because I don't like to share."

"Peas in a pod, love," he said through his grin, pleased as punch by her admission. He looked her up and down, slooowly, heatedly, and swiped his tongue across his full bottom lip. She wanted to chase it with her own, but he was so many feet away. "Y'got my full attention. Swear on me mum."

"Didn't think you had a mother, Harkness," Tamry couldn't help but snark. George chuckled at her quip, laying a hand over the tattoo, over his heart.

"You wound me, darl'."

She huffed. "I'm _going_ to wound you if you don't get back over here and stop fucking around, _Captain_."

He sidled unhurriedly to where she stood, purring as he came, "Oh, Tam, I've got plenty a' fuckin' left to do, yet."

The moment he was close enough that she didn't have to rely on her less than dependable jello knees to close the distance between them, Tamry grabbed the front of his jumpsuit and yanked the man forward. Or, actually, she yanked _herself_ forward, because he was solid as a rock where he stood. The outcome was still the same, her body against his, and that was all that mattered. She cupped the back of his neck, pulling him down and lifting herself up, meeting somewhere in the middle in a rough, hungry kiss that sent heat running down her spine like water. Instead of grabbing her up again, Digger's hands, so nimble for being so large, went immediately to her waist and set a possible world record unfastening her fly. He frustratingly proceeded to then ignore her pants, instead shoving those big hands up under her shirt, wheedling easily under her bra to cup her breasts.

Sheer arched forward into his touch, gasping as his warm, rough palms scraped deliciously over her sensitive skin. He hummed in approval, sucking her bottom lip and biting down just hard enough to make her whimper. He squeezed and kneaded the supple flesh too firmly, but she found she liked it. As his mouth move off from hers to scald a wet path over her jaw with liberal use of those sharp teeth of his, she told him so and the man groaned at her admission.

"That's right, love," he rumbled against her throat, leaving little bites all long the length of it, each one making her breath hitch and her clit twitch. "Tell me everythin' y'like. Wanna hear how good I'm treatin' you."

She tipped her head back to offer up her throat to more of his attention and tried to weave her fingers into his hair only to find that at some point, her hands had slid into his jumpsuit and were trapped between his meaty shoulders at the dayglo fabric. With a needy grumble, she shoved at the material. George immediately shrugged it away, apparently as eager to feel her touch as she was to give it. He was just as hot and smooth as she remembered and now all that sumptuous skin was bared for her perusal. Tamry flattened her hands against his back, petting and stroking, reveling in the way his muscles moved under her palms.

He hunched more, rooting at the bunched up hem of her shirt until the garment was rucked up enough his mouth could take over for one hand, surrounding her nipple in searing wet that sent tingling shocks all through her system - she felt it in her _elbows,_ for fuck's sake. Gooseflesh rose everywhere from thighs to scalp and when he caught the hard peak between his teeth, she cried out regardless of who would hear.

"You alright, Detective?" B-54's concern broke through the lusty haze.

"I'm fi- _ine_!" George had decided that right that moment was the best time push his hand into her sagging jeans. Asshole. He cupped her mound, grinding the heel of his palm against her throbbing, needy clit. Wonderful asshole. Tamry bit into her already abused bottom lip to hold back her moan as her eyes fluttered and she rocked against his hand, her body flooding with relief and pleasure at finally having some stimulation where it was needed most. "Fuck… It's fine. Just - god - just… as you were or whatever."

"Ma'am-"

"For fuck's _sake_ , lady, leave us alone!" Sheer snapped, sharp and whiney, like a spoiled, exasperated child. The window plinked shut and George laughed so hard, he dropped to his knees. His hand slipped from her pants and Tamry's groan this time was one hundred percent frustration and annoyance, with an extra ten of pleading thrown on top. " _Digger!_ "

"Don't y'have a vibrator or somethin'? Y'haven't just been sittin' alone, wet and needin', have you?" he asked, looking up at her, caught halfway between amusement and lusty intrigue. He was stroking his palms up and down the outside of her thighs and as lovely as the gesture was, it was _not_ the touch Tamry was about to shake out of her skin wanting.

"It's not the _same_ ," she protested, grabbing his hair and tugging ungently, trying to get him up off the ground. Boomerang's eyes fluttered and he let out a soft groan, but didn't rise. He turned his face upwards and when his lashes slowly drew apart once more, his pupils had almost completely overtaken the blue of his eyes.

"Y'use it to get off thinking' about me, Tam?" he asked in a lusciously low tone that rolled right through her and now her eyes were in danger of slipping closed. She managed to keep them open, just barely, just a crack, just to be able to see the intense look of arousal on the man's face as he gazed up at her expectantly.

"Yeah," Tamry confirmed it for him, earning a growl so soft she might have imagined it, but didn't.

"How many times y'fuck ya'self with it wishin' it was my fat cock up inside you again?" He was squeezing her thighs now, gripping and releasing almost rhythmically, and the muscles tensed under his kneading hands.

Both her hands formed tight fists, one still in his hair and it made him wince, but he immediately licked his lips after, clearly enjoying the sensation. She gasped out her reply, "God, I don't know - _alot_."

"Yeah? And ya' still this squirmy? I fuck y'that good?" The man could not sound more smug if there were two of him. Tamry's head fell back, thumping against the concrete so uncaringly that the impact actually hurt, but that wasn't what made her eyes prickle embarrassingly. His dawdling and teasing were _killing_ her and the whimper that managed to steal passed her lips flushed her skin a humiliated pink from head to toe. Not her proudest moment - it was pathetic how strongly her body reacted to his and the _need_ of his.

George shushed her softly, curling his fingers under the waist of her jeans and panties. "Captain's got you, darl'," he assured her, leaning in to place a soft, wet kiss low on her belly, just above the elastic as he pulled her clothing down her legs. The scrub brush caress of his unsinged mutton chop caused an outbreak of gooseflesh on her abdomen and made her shiver. When his tongue stole out to taste her skin, a breath above her mound, Tamry whimpered again, louder and somehow even more needy.

"Gonna take care of y'real good, love. Gonna taste this sweet lil' cherry that's just _beggin_ ' for me." The words came between absurdly chaste kisses and light flicks of his tongue on her belly and thighs, but never quite drifting between them. Her breath came so deep and fast, the woman might as well be running a marathon. As he spoke, Digger slid her pants down to her ankles and lifted one foot, tugging off her shoe and tossing it thoughtlessly over his shoulder. "Been waitin' so long. Y'think _you_ been rubbin' 'em out alot, thinkin' a' me?" -a derisive snort directly against the crook of her thigh made Tamry hiccup- "I been fuckin' my fist and dreamin' a' this tight slit here since _day one_."

The man punctuated his statement by flipping her leg over his shoulder and burying his tongue between her slickened folds. It was like nothing Sheer had ever felt before, hot and wet and firm, but pliant, and so fucking insistent on stroking against _every single one_ of the nerve endings that screamed for his attention. _She_ screamed for his attention, short and sharp and it broke off into a shuddering groan as Digger pressed the flat of his tongue against her clitoris and slowly lapped at the throbbing nub like she was a goddamn icecream cone.

Both hands were in his hair, only aware of the softness of the sweat damp curls in the vaguest way as she gripped them, desperate to keep his face right where it was. Not that Boomerang appeared to have any desire to leave. Ever. He groaned against her pussy, the sensation of which made her eyes roll back in her skull and Tamry almost came right there, it was almost enough. As his tongue lazily painted the Sistine Chapel on her quivering flesh, his hands stroked her legs with a firmness that was nicely possessive, as if he owned every inch of her skin. She was more than happy to sanction his claim. Every touch - hands, lips, or tongue - just pushed her closer and closer, built up that warm, urgent tingle deep inside her until she was shaking, teetering on the ragged, blissful edge.

Digger's fingers trailed up from her heel, petting their way up her calf. When he reached the startlingly sensitive back of her knee, he dug his short, blunt nails into the skin and scraped them over the back of her thigh. His nails were a match striking against her skin, sparks following the tender scratch, then shooting upwards like a bottle rocket to pop and send more sparks cascading along the length of her spine and out through her limbs to spit from her fingers and toes. A sharp gasp was all the warning either of them got before Tamry was coming hard and loud, bucking forward reflexively and echoing his name off the concrete and steel around them.

George groaned again, wrapping his plush lips around her twitching clit and sucking hard. All conscious thought was lost in a flood of white light behind her eyes as glorious waves of molten pleasure surged through her body. Keening whimpers rose from her lips like puffs of smoke, signals spelling out his name and _fuck_ because that was all of Tamry's existence at the moment. She fell apart and slumped against the wall, not even bothering to try and catch her breath yet.

Every nerve was singing, an angelic chorus praising the name Digger Harkness and wasn't that some blaspheming shit? He let out a humming purr, nuzzling into her mound and wuffling in the most ridiculous way, but Sheer couldn't summon up an ounce of embarrassment or derision; only laugh breathlessly. His chops (one and a half) were just as abrasive as before, only the harsh scrape was far more pronounced on her sensitive thighs, compounded by the rush of orgasm, but she couldn't say she didn't adore the feeling. Or the way his thick, meaty shoulder felt holding up her thigh, the hard jut of his shoulder blade against the back of her calf. His hair curling around her fingers was like a caress; she managed to loosen her hold enough to return the favor, combing her hands through his locks, scraping her nails feather light against his much abused scalp in silent apology.

Then, something so soft where Tamry had only been feeling hard and hot. A light, tickling brush up the inside of her leg as George went back to kissing her thighs. It wasn't his hands, they were calloused and far rougher. Even if his facial hair _could_ tickle her, his lips were firmly planting themselves just inside her hip and sucking a mark into the skin there.

"Digger?" she croaked out his name in question. He laughed against her leg, clearly amused by the effect his mouth had on her vocal cords.

"Oh, darl', I knew you'd be sweet, but ya' cunt is like fuckin' _candy_ ," he informed her, both pleased and unfathomably smug. "Might hafta start callin' y'sugar from now on, eh? My sweet, lil' Tem Tam."

As pleasant as both the deep rumble of his voice was to her ears and the soft, stroking tickle was on the inside of her thigh, she still didn't know what the hell it was. Her eyes blinked open slowly, like waking from a particularly good sleep, and she gazed down at the big man kneeling before her. Her still tingling clit throbbed at the sight of him, lips against her skin, all around his mouth and chin visibly dewy with her slickness. _Fuck_.

"What are you-" He leaned back, looking up at her as she spoke the question, and that was when she saw it. "The fucking _unicorn_ , really?"

He'd picked up the doll at some point and was gently stroking its plush fur against her legs. Now, while Tamry couldn't deny the softness of the faux fur was actually quite nice, especially as sensitive as she was currently, it was still a goddamn pink unicorn! George's mouth turned down in an injured pout as he glanced at the doll, then back up to her wide, incredulous eyes. His own baby blues were glinting mischievously.

"What's wrong with Pinky?" he demanded with feigned insult.

" _Pinky_?"

"Isn't she soft? Y'can't tell me it doesn't feel nice," Digger insisted, trailing the long, white mane down the back of her leg. Either it was super common for the back of the knee to be as sensitive as she'd found hers to be or she was as transparent as cling film to the big Aussie. He was certainly close enough to her skin to see the goosebumps rise up as the fake hair brushed over the skin there.

"You really jerk off with that thing?" Tamry asked instead of addressing his assertion. George snorted and grinned wide enough that his gold tooth winked up at her.

"I don't fuck the doll, Tam," he chuckled the denial, moving said doll slowly back up her leg. "I just like to feel a bit a' soft when I'm havin' a tug. Can't fault a man for that, can you?"

She didn't suppose she could and, really, judging someone for their harmless sexual predilections was a real dick move. Sighing softly, because it really was a very pleasant sensation, she conceded the point.

"It is kinda nice."

"Isn't it?" He nodded, then leaned back in to kiss just above her mound. "Ya' nice and soft, too, love. Softer than Pinky. So soft."

He trailed off into an absent hum, losing his train of thought. Her stomach did a little cartwheel. She was about to lean her head back, let her eyes shut, and just enjoy him lavishing her skin with kisses, stroking the toy along her legs, but Tamry should have known better than to ignore that glint and forget that Digger was _Digger_. The doll continued upward, snuggling up between her thighs, and the horn… the fucking _sparkly_ horn slotted its way between her labia from front to back.

With an outraged yelp, Sheer tried to jerk away from Boomerang, but she was still trapped between his solid bulk and the concrete. She swatted his big, dumb head and the man laughed like a loon, huge, raucous guffaws that shook her thigh right off his shoulder.

"You shitbag!" she snapped at the man, trying to shove him away. He just wrapped his thick arms around her hips and pressed his face into her stomach, cackling madly like a buffoon.

"Ya' fuckin' _face_!" he exclaimed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. Tamry was absolutely furious, incensed, disgusted, insulted, and starting to laugh herself. She knew better. She _knew better_ than to trust the big goon. She'd - quite literally - left herself wide open to his jackassery. Shaking her head, detective let herself give in to the absurdity of what just happened; she'd never held fast to her pride or taken herself too seriously before, so why start now?

Laughing hard - though not quite so hard as Digger - she leaned forward a bit, resting her hands on his beefy shoulders that jerked and jumped beneath her palms. It was good. A good moment. Light and fun, warm even, showing that this between them had more to offer than just lust and snark. After a couple minutes, George's hoots of laughter whittled down into inappropriately high pitched giggles (so wrong on such a huge man, yet so very _Digger_ ) that made her laugh harder and intensified the airy feeling of enjoyment in Tamry's chest. He loosened his grip and let her slide down the hard plane of his body until she was straddling his lap, his bare chest pressed to her clothed one. His forehead rested against hers, both of them still shaking just slightly with near silent chortles that trailed off to nothing soon enough.

"This is familiar, eh?" George murmured, his lips less than an inch from her own. Tamry hummed in the affirmative, stroking the small hairs at the back of his neck. His hands slipped under her shirt to splay wide across her back, practically spanning from tailbone to shoulders. When he kissed her then, slow and savoring, she could taste herself coating his slips and tongue and shivered, pressing harder against his body. "Didn't I tell you, y'taste sweet?"

His purr brought a fresh flush to her cheeks, but she had to nod. The taste didn't do much for her, but having it mixed with the addictive flavor of Digger Harkness was pressing several buttons the woman hadn't known she possessed. And speaking of new tastes, Tamry licked her lips, biting down on the bottom one for an instant before voicing her thought out loud.

"Do you want to teach me how to suck your dick?" she asked, wondering if she should throw in a "Captain", since he liked it so much. On the other hand, she didn't want him to get too used to hearing it. Didn't matter anyway, since the question itself was enough to make George groan like she'd stabbed him and crush his mouth to hers in a kiss rough enough to be reminiscent of their first night together.

His fingers pressed into her back, gripping her tighter to his chest as his hips rolled upwards against her. The coarse material of the jumpsuit barely containing his rock hard erection rubbed against her bare pussy, pushing right between her labia and scraping against her clit in a way that made her shudder. Tamry moaned into his mouth and mimicked his hips, rolling her own down against him in kind.

"Fuckin' hell, Tam," he grunted against her lips, heavy breaths falling warm and wet on the tingling flesh. "Yes, I want that. Want y'lookin' up at me like a good, sweet girl, swallowin' my cock just the way I tell you."

He shuddered, pressing her back into the wall and gripping her hips to forcefully rut against her. Tamry's eyes rolled shut and she moaned, trying to take his mouth again, but the man refused to let her. She tried to force her hand between them, but he didn't give an inch, keeping his body plastered to hers without so much as a breath between them.

"But not yet," he said, earning another frustrated utterance from the woman he was tormenting. Digger seemed bound and determined to vex the ever loving shit out of Sheer today. "Not 'til I've had a shower."

She blinked at him, startled by the statement. Was he being… considerate? Of course he was; he'd been understanding and supportive when she felt horrified by blurting out her sexual inexperience. He'd given her his jacket to cover her ruined clothes and kept quiet about their liaison for her benefit. He'd held her, gentle and protective, made her feel _cherished_ after all his brutal attentions had her falling to pieces in his arms. Tamry felt stupidly blind and a little guilty for having been as surprised as she was this late in the game. Well, she'd be damned if she would continue to be so unappreciative.

"You are going to fuck me, though, right?" she asked in an unsteady hiss, breath hitching with every roll of his hips sending sizzles of heat and want through her. She'd thought that was the plan when he'd given in to her pleading, but now she wasn't so sure. "Are you waiting for me to beg some more? Could you just tell me what you want?"

"Honestly, I'm just tryin' to keep from firin' off too soon, darl'. Havin' y'come on my tongue put me right on the edge," Digger informed her with a grin that was a tiny bit sheepish, but overwhelmingly lecherous. "What I want is to fuck you so good y'forget ya' own name."

His words made Sheer twist inside and another of those pathetically needy whimpers slipped out. Though, she might not mind them so much if they always got the reaction from him that this one did. He growled, low and deep, smashing his lips into hers with enough force that her head thumped against the concrete, but neither of them cared. His tongue swept into her mouth, hot, insistent, and teasing before slipping back out. Hers tried to chase it, but he just nudged her head aside, biting sharply at her jaw and throat. There was finally space between them, but his hand beat hers to the punch, shoving his jumpsuit down the few inches necessary to free his dick.

It bobbed right up to slap against her pussy, leaving a trail of precum along her thigh. Half a second and a bare shift of his hips and Digger was shoving his hard length inside her. A sharp cry from her and a guttural grunt from him signaled the end of the gentle portion of the interlude. He rose up onto his knees, lifting her as he went. The concrete scraped against Tamry's back like fine grain sandpaper and she wouldn't be surprised to find it had worn holes in her shirt by the time Harkness was finished with her. The rough penetration brought only a fraction of the pain their first coupling had caused and that quickly faded as her body adjusted to his thick, hard intrusion - like he said, it was familiar.

Familiar and still the brutal slamming of his pelvis up into hers stole Tamry's breath and thoughts. It was better than she remembered. Or maybe it was just better. She moaned loudly, so loudly the guards up in the control booth might hear her through the mic in Lawton's cell. George was groaning into her ear and it was like he'd set up a hardline between her eardrum and clitoris, because she could feel every vibration thrumming between her legs, radiating more heat than her mind could handle. She whined against his neck, telling him how good he sounded to her, and that opened a floodgate of obscenities and filthy talk, the words pouring into her ear and driving her even higher.

"Like the way ya' cunt gets me loud, eh? Fuckin' perfect, Tam. Tightest little slit I've ever fucked," he all but snarled. His lips and whiskers brushing her ear may as well have been a live wire, jolting hot little shocks across her scalp, cheek, and neck. "Hot n' wet n' all for me, idn't it? Fuckin' _say it_ , sugar. Ya' candy cunt belongs to me, doesn't it?"

Tamry nodded without hesitation, without _thought_ , really. There was no such thing as possessiveness, no concept of a future beyond this. Temerity Sheer's candy cunt belonged to Captain Boomerang, it was as simple as that.

"Fuck, yes," she gasped, groaning in the back of her throat. "It's yours. All yours. Please, don't stop!"

"Never," he promised, growling as her nails sank into his back. Two thrusts later, " _Fuck_ , I lied. 'm gonna come, Tam. Are y'with me? So much better when ya' squeezin' my rod tight as a fuckin' vice."

She whined, wanting to be with him, wanting nothing more than to squeeze him and make it better. Sheer shifted her hips, trying for that angle she half-remembered that had him hitting her starry spot. He recalled better than she did and between the efforts of the two of them, he started sliding into her just right. The coil tightened then snapped and her inner walls clamped down around his length.

" _Fuck!_ " Digger barked sharply, the sound almost lost in Tamry's even sharper cry of pleasure as she came around him. He pounded up into her even harder, hard enough some of that pain returned, but it only made it _better_. Everything made it better; his whole body going rigid against hers, as hard as the concrete he was crushing her against; his cock thickening and pulsing inside her, filling her with the scorching gush of his cum; his broken voice calling her name loud, too loud into her ear, making it ring. It was too much, it was _everything._

It was over too soon, but a second more and Tamry might never have recovered. She slumped forward, somehow managing to sprawl herself across his shoulders, limp and breathless and humming with pleasure. Digger's breath spilled down the back of her neck, under the collar of her shirt, down her spine. He held her so tight her ribs ached, but the woman couldn't bring herself to complain. Her lips found his skin, brushing over the smooth heat of it reverently. Her tongue stole out to catch the taste, salt and grime, but still good.

"I want you again, Tam," the man who owned her murmured. The pleasantness of the low rumble across her senses waylaid the meaning from hitting home. "I want you again already."

He was moving before she could respond, turning to the side and skating them across the floor to lay her back on his thin excuse for a mattress. He rose up above her like a titan and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. All thick muscle and smooth skin, bruised and scarred and tattooed, wild curls on his head, soft and warm ones on his chest and stomach and between her legs, even the half burned off chops were perfect and masculine and _powerful_. None of it exceeded his eyes, however; bright and shining with lust, possession, and something her brain refused to accept as awe.

Boomerang pulled her shirt and bra off in one go, dropping them aside. He stroked his hands over her body, mapping out every inch as if he hadn't done so before, as if it was all new all over again. She reached for him, unwilling to lay passive when his flesh called out for her touch, and he gave into her silent demand. Leaning forward, letting out a very male sound of appreciation as her hands petting him in return. He rolled his hips down against her, sinking deep inside her in a motion completely unprecedented in their short history of carnal interaction - slow and gentle.

"Ya' so beautiful, Tam," George whispered, tracing the line of her jaw with his fingertips. The words hit Tamry like a punch to the chest. Because she couldn't remember ever hearing them before. Because he _meant_ them. She wanted to shut her eyes, to hide how much they affected her, to protect herself from him. She didn't. And he smiled, gentle like the way he rocked into her. "Everythin' about y'feels so bloody good."

"I want you to feel good," she insisted, whispering too because it seemed wrong not to.

"Oh, I do, love," he assured her as his head came down. The kiss was just as lazy as their coupling, tongues battling in in a leisurely dance that belied the intense heat and pleasure building between them.

The slow, deep stroke of his cock inside her was amazing, coaxing every nerve to life until even the roots of her hair were tingling. He palmed her breasts, teasing the already pert nipples until she was writhing beneath him. Tamry retaliated by scraping her nails down the length of his spine, digging them into the generous swell of his ass, earning herself a lovely groan that broke apart into throaty chuckles. One of George's massive paws followed the line of her body, down her ribs and side to her hip, slipping beneath the woman under him to cup her round cheek and squeeze. She giggled, then gasped as he lifted her into his next roll, the new angle letting him slide even deeper into her soaking heat.

"God, again!" Tamry hissed, pushing up against him.

"Y'don't hafta call me 'god', sugar; 'Captain' will do," he teased. The next roll was more of a thrust and struck home with a shock of pleasure that the detective wanted repeated. And repeated.

"Whatever, just keep- Uh! Just like that!" Gone were the hushed whispers, replaced by fervent hisses and gasps and finally a broken moan. He wasn't moving much harder and no faster, and he wouldn't let her either, but it was enough, more than enough, it was amazing. The slow smoldering was finally sparking into flame and each gentle thrust of Harkness's hips was a strike of flint against steel.

Their mouths meshed again, groaning into each other as the pressure and pleasure built and built. Digger broke first, hissing in a sharp gasp and rocking into his woman fast and shallow, grinding the base of his cock against her clit. Tamry keened his name as the sudden increase in tempo and unrefined stimulation of the greedy bundle of nerves flashed white hot through her system. She was coming again, clinging to the swearing Aussie and seeing stars as he jerked and shuddered above her like the human embodiment of an earthquake. He flooded her channel again, the second helping enough to overflow and paint her thighs slick.

Tamry was still twitching with beautiful aftershocks when Digger collapsed on top of her. The man weighed a ton and crushed the breath right out of his smaller lover, but Sheer found that she fairly _adored_ his heavy bulk pressing boneless down on her. She purred with contentment, enjoying the tickle of his nose squashed against the crook of her neck. Long, blissful minutes passed filled with feathery caresses and tender kisses. Sheer idly pondered the strange creature that was George "Digger" "Captain Boomerang" Harkness.

Thief, liar, scumbag, career criminal, selfish, crude, lecherous, snide, obnoxious, childish, violent, possibly alcoholic, unicorn fetishist - that made her giggle. Also, gentle; even kind. Caring here and there. Protective. Possessive, that's for sure. Filthy mouthed, which she enjoyed immensely. Ridiculous. Funny. Inexplicably wonderful. Moving. Ugh.

George ignored her plaintive whine and slipped out of her, rising to move away. He acknowledged her irritated grumble, but only to laugh at her, which wasn't helpful at all. She watched him through sated, sleepy eyes as he stood and went over to the toilet/sink, picking up his prison issued tshirt from where he must have tossed it before she'd arrived. He ran water over the material and quickly cleaned himself up, then pulled his jumpsuit back up to his hips, tying it off with the sleeves again. A quick rinse of the shirt and he was coming back to the mattress.

Tamry's face flamed as Digger knelt beside her and proceeded to clean away the remnants of their coupling with a thorough gentleness that made her chest tight. The moment was intensely… something. She thought it might be sweet or tender, but it was also intensely awkward and she was having trouble focusing. Awkward _for her_ , to be clear, because George was as relaxed and comfortable as a cat on a sunny windowsill. When he grabbed her clothes and started to dress her, Tamry got the hint. She pulled on her bra as he went about turning her socks right-side out - dear god, how was she supposed to handle that?

"I'm keepin' these," Digger informed her, holding up her panties. Sheer just snorted and shook her head. He grinned when she didn't protest and tucked his trophy under his pillow for safe keeping. Once she was fully dressed again, Tamry went to stand, but the big man looped an arm around her waist and pulled her right back down. "Y'can atleast hang about 'til maintenance comes by, yeah? Keep ol' Captain Boomerang company."

She let him tug her close, leaning back against the wall and tucking her in against his side, but keeping himself between her and the door. Cuddling with Captain Boomerang; who ever would have thought? But it was nice, warm and cozy, even on the shitty prison mattress, even with the less than pleasant perfume of the cell and the man who really did need that shower. They didn't talk much and that was fine by Sheer; she had alot on her mind.

Regardless of her own feelings, she'd been totally certain that Boomerang was only interested in her for the fun of the banter they'd always shared and the sweetness he'd recently found between her legs. His behavior there in the cell screamed at her otherwise. He thought she was beautiful and told her so. He insisted she was his - more than the claim he'd lain on her vagina last time - and demanded her agreement. He… well, he _made love_ to her. Then cleaned her and dressed her and _wanted_ to hold her close afterwards.

Tamry was confused and apprehensive to realize that this man - the one she'd found under the mutton chops, beer cans, bad attitude, and worse jokes - she could love. She _could_ ; it was that simple, no use denying it. However, she was a realist and pragmatist and, of course, saw things objectively. Scumbags like Digger Harkness don't consider things like love when they look at the world. They know what they like and what they don't. They see things in terms of want and need. It was clear that he liked Tamry - even before sex had been a reality between them, he'd liked her. He didn't _love_ her. But if he _wanted_ her enough, if he _needed_ her enough, then maybe that could _be_ enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try for my normal daily schedule, but I can't promise it. Sorry. Hope this chapter makes up for it, kinda, maybe, hopefully.
> 
> Also, if you're not a Spartacus fan and you've never seen it, here's a fun behind the scenes featurette where you can hear [Jai's very manly giggling](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KMTZYx1fENM&spfreload=1). lol


	6. Here There Be Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The squad heads to Midway City and maybe bites off more than they can chew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on going further than the last chapter. Was just gonna leave it off with the "enough might be enough" concept. But I mean... why not go through the movie? It's kinda my thing.

Tamry hated to leave Digger alone in his cell, but she didn't have much choice. He was an inmate and they were in a prison. Plus, there was zero chance she would actually use that toilet. _Fuck that noise._ Still, she would have stayed longer, but maintenance had come to replace the camera he'd torn loose.

The head CO on Waller's Taskforce was a colossal douche bag named Griggs, but the man insisted on being called by his designation, Alpha-01. The squad members weren't the only ones who called him 'Asshole One' instead. Even Flag had accidentally called him that in an official capacity once. He was rather liberal with his definition of 'necessary force', so when it came time to extract Harkness from his cell to allow maintenance to enter, Tamry had made certain she stuck close by.

"You can go, sweetness, we got this," Griggs insisted with an amount of smarm that should be illegal in the US. Sheer just lifted one brow and stayed right where she was.

One thing about Alpha-01 that the guy had to be given credit for was his ability to remain calm under pretty much all circumstances. Unfortunately, this positive attribute was tempered by the fact that, since he didn't lose his cool, all the abuse he inflicted on those around him - especially the inmates - was without a shred of excuse and done purely for his own enjoyment. Many of the guards were intimidated by his unflappable self control and playfully sadistic nature - Tamry was not.

In full view and hearing range of Boomerang, Griggs leaned in close. His proximity made her skin crawl, but Temerity Sheer had one hell of a poker face and didn't even bat an eyelash. He wasn't even close to the scummiest slimeball she'd dealt with in her tenure at GPD.

"Listen, you might not be on camera doin' the horizontal mambo with Crocodile Dundee over there, but the audio is pretty damn clear leading up to it. You don't really want me to play that for your boss, do you?"

Tamry snorted, smirking superiorly up at the guard, singularly unimpressed. "Where do you think I'm going after I'm through here? If I wanted to keep it a secret, you think I'd have waltzed into his fucking cell in the middle of the afternoon?"

"Yeah, that's weird," Griggs conceded. "What the hell with that, anyway? I mean, you're not a ten; maybe seven, solid six and a half, but I got plenty of guys that wouldn't kick you out of bed, honey. You don't have to slum it with trash like that. I know for a fact, Geraldo - you know, C-33? - is down with the freaky shit."

"Oh yeah?" Sheer feigned intrigue. "So, he likes you to give him the shocker while you're blowing him?"

"He blows me, wavy gravy; get it right. I think he'd even let you pee on him." God, Griggs was disgusting. She didn't let her revulsion show, just remained placid in the face of his vulgar comments.

"Okay, let's be real for a second here."

Alpha-01 nodded, matching Tamry's serious expression. "Real talk. Go for it."

"You remember some months ago when I told you that if I found out you were overstepping, we were gonna have words?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember that," he nodded.

"These are the words," she told him.

"Oh, _these_ are the words?" She nodded. "Kinda anticlimactic."

"Between me and Harkness, which one of us do you think you need to worry about pissing off?" she asked quietly. Griggs pursed his lips off to one side in an exaggerated duck-face of thought.

"I know it's the twenty-first century and I'm a feminist, I really am, but he's a really big guy and you're a really small lady," he said with an air of apology. "Plus, he's got, like, fifty assault charges."

Sheer nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, he does. And I don't have any. I haven't been charged once."

They started at each other for a long time before Griggs spoke again. "I feel like you're trying to tell me something here."

She nodded with a resigned sigh and gingerly plucked the telescoping baton from the guard's belt, snapping it open with a sharp flick of her wrist.

"My jacket says I used one of these to beat a pimp named Sweet Puppy into a coma," the detective told him with all the nonchalance of someone recounting a trip to the grocery store. "Feeding tube, diapers. Had to learn to walk again when he woke up. He never could say his Ss right after that. Had to change his name and everything; no one takes a pimp who calls himself Thweet Puppy seriously."

"That's-" He swallowed once. Hard. "That's too bad."

"Yeah. You know the difference between me and them?" she asked, gesturing with the baton at the cells surrounding them.

"What? You never been arrested?" Griggs asked.

"That's half right," Tamry nodded. "There are _dozens_ of incident reports in my file and I've never been charged. I've never even been suspended. And - and this is kind of the one you should focus on - I'm not in a cell. I can leave here whenever I want and go wherever I want."

"Is this, like, a really vague threat you're trying to lay down? I'm not good at readin' between the lines."

"I'm keeping this," was her only reply, holding up the baton. "Don't worry. I'll get it back to you later."

* * *

Confident that George wouldn't have developed any bruises with mysterious origins between her leaving him in his cell with a brand new camera and the next time she saw him, Tamry made her way to Flag's Ops tent to face the situation head on. When she'd been out in the yard that morning, the command center had been calm, all but silent, now it was a hornets' nest of activity. The regular support crew was rushing around, each of them knowing exactly what they were doing, but the entire process was lost on Tamry. At the center of the chaos, Rick stood, hunched forward over his table, glaring down at what looked like a spread of aerial recon photos.

"Hey, Flag," Sheer called, sidestepping a SEAL who rushed by her with a box of something she didn't know and didn't really care what. "I need to talk to you."

"Kinda busy here, Sheer," the team leader replied, not looking at her. He picked up a photo and squinted at it, lifting it close for a better look.

"I see that. What's going on?"

"Terrorist attack in Midway City," Flag said. Flag _lied_. She wasn't insulted. Secret military things are secret.

"Should I pack a lunch?" Tamry only asked because she knew she should, that any terrorist attack Flag had been briefed on was likely to be a squad assignment. He didn't need to know she knew he was full of it. He shook his head.

"Not looking that way. Situation looks containable." That much she thought was true. Not that it mattered either way - if it wasn't squad business, she wasn't going to worry about it.

"Listen, I want to get this over with before-"

Rick cut her off curtly, _still_ not looking up. "Can't you see I got bigger things to deal with right now than who you wanna fuck?"

She blinked at him for a moment, then shrugged.

"Okay. Good talk, Rick." The soldier waved her away and Sheer took the hint, weaving her way back out of the command center. That was not the reaction she'd been expecting, but maybe he really did have bigger things on his mind. Thank god for small favors.

* * *

Late that night, somewhere between midnight and the asscrack of dawn, Tamry sauntered into the control room and, despite the fervent protesting of the guard on duty there, deleted the video footage of Digger's cell from that afternoon. Not because she was embarrassed or worried about some kind of disciplinary action, but because it wasn't anyone's fucking business but hers and George's.

And speaking of George, she caught sight of his live feed from the corner of her eye and felt her entire body flush from hairline to toes. It appeared he'd purposely shoved his mattress into full view of the camera and was currently leaning up on one elbow, sprawled with immodest abandon. And completely naked. Beside the man, that magazine that wasn't about motorcycles was laying open, but he wasn't looking at it. The sound had been muted and it was easy to see why. Digger's head was lolled back, eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration as his hand pumped furiously away. But the thing that really caught Tamry's attention - yes, more than her lover spread out like a buffet - was the fact that Pinky was dangling in front of the deviant Aussie's chin, her little pink hooves doing an airborne tap dance from the motion of his arm jostling his body. Her _sparkly_ horn was nowhere to be seen, because it was clenched firmly between Captain Boomerang's teeth.

* * *

"So, what's it like? Is he huge? Or are all those muscles just compensation?"

Tamry sighed. This was one thing that had gone pretty much exactly the way she'd expected. Harley had flounced her way into the cafeteria for breakfast, grabbed herself some toast and coffee - something the regular residents of Belle Reve weren't allowed, plopped down beside the detective, and started in with the questions and comments about the budding romance between cop and convict.

Croc had ignored them. Tatsu, Flag, and June were nowhere to be seen. Chato was still in his tank, Digger still on lockdown for his outburst. And Floyd just shook his head and moved as far away from the boisterous blonde as possible, trying to enjoy his meal.

"He's not compensating for anything," Tamry admitted. She couldn't just not answer Quinn at all, denial of what she wanted only made the child-like psychopath more determined, but Sheer also wasn't going to go into detail. Vaguery was her friend. Her other friend, the crazy one, let out a salacious 'Ooo!' and giggled madly.

"Is that thing about the stuffed animals true?" Was the next question and Tamry barely held in the cringe it incited. _Shit_. How could she answer this with enough truth that the doc's internal lie detector wouldn't light up, but also hold back enough that the woman wouldn't pursue the subject further?

As it turned out, she didn't have to, because three seconds later, the doors to the cafeteria burst open. A highly agitated Rick Flag strode into the room. The man was wound so tight, his left eye was twitching.

"Grab your shit!" he barked. "We're wheels up in ten!"

* * *

"Ooo! Look at the pretty lights!" Harley cooed from where she had her face pressed against the glass porthole above her seat on the helicopter. She looked back at the rest of the squad, eyes wide with wonderment. "Are you guys seein' this?!"

They had, in fact, seen it as they flew into Midway City. A ring of clouds and debris floating stationary above a point far off in the city, lit up by some kind of massive electric discharge that shot giant bolts of lightning straight up into the sky. Tamry had never seen anything quite like it, but similarly crazy shit happened in Gotham often enough that she smirked at Harley's astonished excitement.

"C'mon, doc," she snarked lightly. "Act like you been here before."

Digger snickered beside her and they both earned a childish 'Nyah' from Quinn, who then plopped back down in her seat with a pout.

"What happened?" Floyd inquired of their fearless leader. Flag could keep up his poker face almost as well as Tamry.

"Terror attack," he told the other man. "Dirty bombs, bad guys shootin' up the place with AKs. You know, usual shit."

Lawton nodded. "Yeah. You know, you're a terrible liar."

"Well, he's a boy scout.," Tamry interjected. Quinn laughed brightly.

"You got a sash all full a' badges, Colonel? Did you get that one for helping' old ladies cross the street? That's a real thing, right?" Her tone was light and chipper and it was just as likely as not that she was being entirely sincere in asking.

"You wanna tell us what's really going on?" Floyd pressed.

"Our mission is extraction. Locate HVT-1 and escort them out of the city."

"I still don't speak good guy."

"HVT means High Value Target," Tamry supplied. "Why are _we_ going in, Rick? Aren't rescue ops Enchantress territory?"

"We can't rely on June with that-" he pointed at the window over her shoulder, indicating the electrical geyser "-putting out all kinds of interference."

"Rescue?" Deadshot parroted incredulously. He chuckled at Flag. "I dunno if you remember, but I'm a hitman; I'm not a fireman. I don't save people."

The Colonel wasn't impressed by the assassin's apathetic bravado and sneered at the other man. "Anything for a dollar, right?"

That tickled Floyd and he grinned derisively across the chopper. "You know the dark places, too; don't act like you don't," he taunted.

Quinn and Sheer shared a look. It was always the same with those two; alpha males perpetually posturing at one another. It was worse because they could not have had more different lifestyles, but were so very alike in temperament, each resenting the judgment laid upon them and hating the bit of himself he saw in the other.

Flag leaned forward to deliver his cutting reply. "I'm a _soldier_ and you're a serial killer who takes credit cards."

"Okay, put the rulers away, boys," Tamry ordered, knowing a third party had to put a stop to the bickering or it would never end. Once the shooting started and they had a common enemy, the two men worked together just fine, but there was always a chance one of them might push the other too far and start the party a little early. "I don't think the pilot will be happy if you start pissing all over his nice helicopter."

They both gave her a look of annoyance, but stopped sniping at each other. Beside the detective, Boomerang piped up.

" 'sides, neither of y'could win that contest," he declared with confidence. Several sets of eyes turned to the big Aussie, all above mouths poised to remark snidely on his insinuation, but he just grinned and went on. "Y'ever seen Croc in the shower?"

Floyd's face twisted in disgust. Harley leaned halfway over Tamry, far too interested. "Is he normal down there?"

Digger snorted. "If y'wanna call a baby's arm holdin' an apple 'normal'," he scoffed. Croc let out one of those not-quite-human noises he sometimes made - this one seeming to indicate dismissal - and looked out the window. Tamry shook her head at the man beside her. "Seriously, sugar; he'd split you in half."

"Nice to see you're still classy, Digger," she deadpanned.

It actually _was_ kind of nice. That he hadn't changed, hadn't tried to be someone he wasn't for her. As disgusting and ridiculous as he was, Tamry liked the big galoot that way. Though, there had been some differences. He stood closer than usual and smiled at her more. He didn't always take the seat beside hers when they were out in the world, but he'd done so today. George wasn't overt in his displays of affection, but they were there if one looked - and, of course, Tamry was looking. He didn't put his arm around her or hold her hand, but his own hand was currently resting palm-down on her seat, fingers tucked snugly beneath her thigh. She liked the subtlety of it, something Digger Harkness was not known for. It seemed that maybe he viewed what was budding between them as special, something for himself and Tamry and no one else.

The pragmatist in her of course pointed out that he might just be keeping it low key because he thought having their newly sexual relationship a focus of attention for the rest of the group would piss her off and didn't want to risk her shutting him down. Or he might just be the kind of guy who thinks showing affection made him look less manly. Her unusually soft, squishy heart announced that neither of those things were off-putting, because even if they were true, he was still doing the little things that made them both happy and that was what mattered.

What mattered more was the sudden metallic plinking of bullets striking their aircraft. Even more than that was how one of the pilots slumped forward and the chopper lurched drunkenly to the side. Several of the men shouted in alarm and Harley squealed in fear. Something slammed into the helo, smashing through the cockpit windows and tearing at the fuselage with a monstrous groaning shriek of the metal giving way. Quinn screeched as the chopper plummeted like a stone, rolling sickening in the air as it fell.

Tamry's stomach rose into her throat, choking off her own shriek, then disappeared entirely. The world exploded in her ears, metal and screams and loud noises she didn't have words for. She was slammed back against her seat, then wrenched forward, up, out, down again; the only thing keeping her from being flung from her seat the restraints across her chest, digging mercilessly into her shoulders. Her vision narrowed to a slot, showing only the window between Flag and Croc and the city, sky, and ground scrolling by over and over, like being inside God's dryer. Tumble low.

With a final crashing slam, the helicopter stopped. They were all right-side up again, shaken, battered, but whole.

"Sound off!" Flag immediately shouted. Tatsu replied almost as quickly. The rest of the squad wasn't quite as expedient or succinct.

"Did that fuckin' just happen?" Digger demanded, his voice a squeak that rivaled Harley's. His lungs were pumping hard and fast, chest rising and falling beneath the arm Tamry had thrown across him by reflex when they'd dropped out of the sky. The man was likewise holding fast to her, arm traversing her stomach, hand clamped around her hip hard enough that the imprint of it would probably be amongst the bruises she'd be sporting from the crash.

"Can we do it again?" Quinn squealed and kicked her feet with childlike glee. Tamry's other hand was firmly anchored on the giggling blonde's far shoulder. She grinned at the detective and placed a loud, smacking kiss to Sheer's forearm.

"Sheer, you injured?" Flag demanded, struggling his way out of his safety harness.

"Just my confidence in air travel," she snarked back, her voice quaking ever so slightly.

"Don't fuck around," Digger snapped, easily flicking the clasps on his rig open and freeing himself. He turned in his seat, doing the same to Tamry's own restraints as the fuselage filled with smoke. "Are y'hurt, Tam?"

"No, I'm not hurt," she assured the Aussie. Aside from the unfortunate pilots, no one was hurt. In fact, no one on the squad was even bleeding. They all staggered out of the gaping maw at the back of the chopper none the worse for wear.

"Woo! What a ride!" Quinn exclaimed, bouncing down onto the pavement.

"That was fun," Floyd deadpanned, checking over his rifle for damage. "Let's never do it again."

"Party pooper," the doc pouted at him playfully as Flag checked in with Waller via his radio. Everyone on the team had a radio - something that had been implemented after Sheer's near miss with the machine gun - but only the colonel was able to communicate with the voice on high. He and the leader of the support unit, Lt. Edwards, a handsome devil called 'GQ', quickly went over a map of the city to get their bearings before moving out.

Waller's Taskforce had been dropped into some heavy situations before, but as Tamry took in the deserted city around her, she realized that whatever this was, it was on a whole other level. They were in the middle of downtown, but the only sounds were the ones they brought with them and the occasional mysterious pop or shuffle in the distance. Bright lights flashed from billboards and advertisements all around them, but every programmable screen flashed the stark, red declaration, 'MANDATORY EVACUATION' over and over. It was surreal and filled the hardened detective with anxiety. From the uncharacteristic quiet of her fellow squad members, Tamry knew she wasn't the only one feeling it.

That feeling grew exponentially when they got into the areas where whatever Flag kept calling a 'terror attack' had taken place. There was a fucking _plane_ laying in pieces in the middle of Seventh Avenue! And it just got weirder. It was damage unlike anything Sheer had ever seen and she'd spent her whole life in _Gotham City_ , home of the Batman. They came across a military vehicle of some kind and Tamry had had enough. She knew it was military by the tires, but not what kind because the thing was fucking _melted_. Not just melted, which would have been crazy enough, but melted and fused to the ground in a long, ragged smear of metal and what looked like glass.

"Flag, what the fuck did this?" she demanded in a furious hiss because the silence was seeping into her skull and making it throb.

"Just stay frosty and keep your eyes open," was all the answer she got. _So, not good enough._

"Just suck my fucking dick," Sheer snarled at her commanding officer, grabbing his arm and yanking the man to a halt. "What the hell are we walking into?"

"Boss, we got people up here," the lieutenant called from a little further ahead. Flag pulled out of her grasp and jogged up to where the point men were waiting.

They were halfway down a darkened side street where several cars had been abandoned, at least one of which was on fire, providing minimal light in the eerie gloom. The rest of the crew fanned out at the end of the street, waiting. Flag declared the unknowns as hostile and the tension ratcheted up.

"We're diverting," he informed the team softly and sent half of the support unit off with a string of military talk that Tamry didn't bother trying to decipher. All she needed to know was they now had fewer guns.

"Rick, why do they look like that?" GQ's shaky question set every one of Sheer's hair follicles standing on end. She crept up to the front line, Floyd at her back, his rifle poised and ready. One of the hostiles wandered in front of the burned out car and the flickering flames light him up from behind. Him? Her? _It_.

"What the fuck?" Tamry breathed. The thing appeared human enough, until you got a good look at its head. Its bulbous, _undulating_ , blackberry-like head. _Yo mama's so ugly, it looks like her neck blew a bubble_. Fuck, she'd been on the squad too long.

"What the hell are they?" Floyd demanded. Even the assassin's voice was hushed and edgy.

Tatsu drew her sword in a sudden, sharp movement. Whether she'd seen one of the beings at the other end of the street make a move toward the group or her own abrupt motion drew its attention was unclear and irrelevant as the whole contingent of bubble-headed abominations converged on the squad.

Tamry was no deadeye like Deadshot, but she was no slouch with her sidearm and opened fire right along with the rest of them. The monsters let out shuddery chitters and hisses, squealing when injured. All of Lawton's bullets were headshots and Sheer was horrified to see that the heads didn't burst like flesh and bone and brain; they shattered.

The creatures weren't just coming at the team from the front, but all around; they'd let themselves get surrounded. It was chaos. She ran out of bullets and didn't have time to change out her clip before one of the hostiles was on her. Sheer snatched up the baton she'd confiscated off Griggs and snapped it open, going straight for that quivering orb atop its neck. The inhuman head exploded into chunky shards of stone. Of glass; opaque, black glass.

"Get off me you son of a bitch!" Flag shouted from somewhere to Tamry's right. It was distraction enough that she was slow to dodge the blade that came swinging towards her.

The metal slashed across her chest, slicing through her shirt and scraping across her Kevlar vest. The detective stumbled back over the body of the creature she'd felled just a moment before and fell to the ground herself. She kicked out immediately, feeling the satisfying crunchy pop of a knee being ruined as her heel hit home. The machete came for her again, but she rolled aside easily and brought her baton down through the fragile bauble that served as her attacker's head.

The madness ended in a flurry of loud pops Sheer recognized as the rapid report of Floyd's wrist gun. The silence swooped in again, settling its dread feathers upon the scene, intensifying the sight of the carnage by removing the distraction of sound. There were bodies everywhere, laying with limbs contorted in strange, unnatural angles. More unnatural were the chunks of shining black lying scattered all over the pavement. Obsidian and blood, because the creatures didn't bleed, but not all the bodies were theirs.

"Bloody fuckin' 'ell!" Digger stalked his way through the charnel and yanked Tamry to her feet so hard the woman might have gotten whiplash. "The fuck is this?!"

'This' was the slash that disturbingly followed almost the exact path as the bullets that had torn into a similar vest she'd once been wearing. The Kevlar - woven for lead and not steel - had been cleaved, but not her tender flesh below. When it was evident there was no injury there, the incensed man jerked and twisted her this way and that, seeking out any other possible damage.

The sound of wood striking stone and the soft jangle of the shards that flew away from the impact was startling enough in the quiet to turn the Aussie's head for a moment. Harley was bashing in the already bashed in head of one of the fallen creatures with singular determination. As Floyd went to stop her, Digger glared down at his woman. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of whatever he'd been about to say. Probably an order to stay closer to him, where he could protect her; maybe further demand that Sheer come clean with any injuries she was hiding. Both of which were ridiculous and it was to his credit that Boomerang didn't say either.

Tamry reached up and brushed some shiny, black crumbs from Digger's lapel. She gripped his chin lightly and turned his head to the side, clucking her tongue softly that his right eye was already bruising up.

"Every time," she chided softly. "I need to get you some goggles."

He chuckled and caught her hand, pressing a fleeting kiss to her knuckles before turning away and tugging her towards where the others were starting to regroup.

"You wanna start explaining this?" GQ asked Flag in a tone that was just bordering on insubordinate.

"If I did, would you believe me?" his CO responded.

"What are they?" Quinn came in with the million dollar question.

"I don't know," Rick lied. It was blatantly obvious, even the newest replacements on the support team knew it.

Floyd immediately called him out. "That's bullshit. That thing has on a three thousand dollar watch. Is that a _person_?"

Digger immediately went to find the watch Lawton mentioned. Tamry might have rolled her eyes if not for the sick rolling of her stomach.

"It was. Now, it's not," Flag confirmed, defiant and unaffected and wound up tighter than she'd ever seen him. Too tight; ready to snap. "We got a job to do. We're moving out."

As they all started to file after their fearless leader, George stepped in front of Chato, sneering angrily down at the smaller man, "You were some help there, princess."

Santana had hung back out of the fray for the entire fight. Tamry couldn't say she was surprised. The firemancer had been reluctant to use his gifts at all when Waller had first pulled the Taskforce together and after the incident on their last outing, it wasn't a shock that he'd retreat back to square one.

"Trust me; it's better this way," he said in a flat, almost emotionless tone. His dark eyes were haunted and he didn't meet the other man's gaze.

"Yeah, a'course. You almost got us all killed once this week already, yeah? Best just let someone else finish the job." Digger's tone dripped with scorn, but he was also angry. Angry that Chato would leave them all out to dry as he had. They were a ragtag bunch of misfits, to be sure, but the squad was held together by a thin thread of camaraderie, the knowledge that when push came to shove, they'd at least _try_ to have each other's backs. When the object of his derision remained silent and stoic, the big Aussie curled his lip in disgust. "Why'd you even bother comin'?"

George stormed away, but Tamry hung back, walking beside the skull-faced man with sad eyes.

"None of us hold it against you, you know," she told him softly once the others were just ahead and they had the illusion of privacy.

"I do," he replied firmly, not looking up. "I'm not safe. I almost killed you. I could do it again."

"Well, apparently, I'm flame retardant, so you don't have to worry about it." It was only half meant to be lighthearted. The truth was, the episode still left Sheer feeling terrified and confused.

"You don't know why you didn't burn, do you?" She blinked at Chato, startled by the question.

"Don't you?"

He shook his head. "Never happened before. If you're thinking it was me, that I pulled back, you're wrong. I didn't stop until it was too late. It was just like… like always. So, if you don't know how, it might not happen the next time."

The complexities of fantastical abilities were way above her pay grade, so Tamry didn't waste her already taxed mental resources pondering the how and why of her survival at just that moment. Instead, she leveled a steady, meaningful gaze on the man beside her and waited for his dark eyes to meet her own.

"It might or it might not, but that's not important," she told him, meaning it wholeheartedly. "These things aren't like anything we've ever seen and there's way more going on here than Flag is telling us. As dangerous to us as you think you are-" Santana started to speak, but she cut him off, conceding his point before he could make it. "Okay, you _are_ dangerous and you _could_ kill one or all of us, but you're not _trying_ to. Those things _are_. They want us dead and the odds are already in their favor."

Sheer tugged off her ruined vest and handed it to him, then went to catch up to the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience guys. You're all awesome!


	7. Death From Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue of HVT-1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note here for the people who've been reading since way back when I first posted this: I went back and fixed the second conversation between Digger and Tamry, because when I wrote it I hadn't yet seen the movie and wasn't aware that our boy Boomer had a triple life sentence. lol. Oops.

Flag drew everyone to a halt, half turning back to the group as he pointed up ahead. "See that building?"

"Oh, you mean the one with the friggin' halo?" Sheer asked, hating how they'd just stopped in the middle of the road with no cover. Directly ahead, maybe quarter of a mile away, stood what would have once been considered a sky scraper. Something big was on fire beyond it, wreathing the upper third of the building in otherworldly amber. There was line of signage large enough and bright enough that even at that distance, she could see the silent proclamation that this was the John F. Ostrander Federal Building. She didn't know why that sounded so familiar.

"That's the one," Rick confirmed. "Our body's at the top. We get up there; pull 'em out the vault they're hiding in; helos extract us off the roof. It's Miller Time."

"Sounds so easy when you put it like that," Floyd nodded, deceptively reasonable. "Wonder why you even need us."

Flag said nothing to that comment, only motioned the group forward once more. Tamry shared a look with the assassin and saw her own suspicion and anxiety mirrored back at her. The man was a precise killer and wasn't comfortable unless he knew every angle, could quantify every variable. Nothing put Deadshot on edge like not having all the information. She knew just how he felt.

* * *

There was a ragged military blockade set up just before the doors of the building and it only took Sheer a heartbeat to realize that it had been set up long before any tac teams arrived in Midway - it had been meant to keep the bubble-headed creatures out. It had failed. Flag brought them up short on the offensive side of the slapdash fortifications, taking a knee behind a concrete highway divider and contacting Waller to let her know their position.

"Get that chopper ready," he told her, his voice hushed. The entire support unit- or what was left of it, because they never had met back up with the group that split off before the creatures engaged - was squatted down behind the colonel. The squad members stood separate from the military personnel, scattered, but clearly on the same page. One thing they all had in common - even Tatsu, if she'd ever admit it - was a distinct lack of patience and maybe more than a little difficulty with impulse control.

Floyd broke first, because of course the big dog would, and leaned down to jab at Flag's manhood - metaphorically speaking. "What do you say we get this over with?"

He walked right by their commanding officer and pulled open one of the glass doors that led to the lobby. The handle came off in his hand, the already shattered glass crumbling into a sparkling shower across the tops of his boots. Their trigger man didn't even pause, strolling in through the opening as if it had been there all along. The rest of the squad followed suit, with Flag's _other_ team hurrying to catch up.

Rick quickly fell in step beside Deadshot, both men moving so in stride it looked choreographed. "You mind if we tag along?" he quipped, the silent promise of violence the building presented focusing his inner soldier and, counter intuitively, making him seem more at ease.

The support team outpaced the squad, who all but sauntered through the lobby, clearing the open space with practiced efficiency. Flag and Lawton stepped into the little square corral of a reception/security station and checked the fortunately still operating camera feed. The building looked as deserted as the rest of the city, but, of course, looks can and often do prove to be deceiving.

"Looks like we have a spot a' luck, eh?" Digger cooed with the brightest of playful sarcasm. "Be a walk in the park. Easy peasy."

Floyd and Rick leveled twin dead-eyed glares at the man, but they really should have been expecting it. The Aussie hadn't been obnoxious in over twenty minutes, after all. He was well past due.

"Don't make me shoot you," the assassin warned. That sort of comment was the closest Lawton ever seemed to get to joking and Boomerang grinned widely in victory, cackling softly as his gold tooth glinted in the dim lighting of the deserted lobby.

The gentle chime of a bell drew everyone's attention and they all watched as a glass walled elevator rose up and away towards the higher levels, taking Harley with it.

"God dammit!" Flag barked. Everyone on the squad lacked patience and self control, true, but none more than the doc. Everyone rushed for the stairs, feet pounding urgently to catch the carelessly cavalier murder pixie.

Tamry felt a flare of anger towards her so-called friend. They were all on edge, more than usual with this mindfuck of a job, but Harley _knew_ better. It wasn't just that Quinn was putting herself in danger by rushing off alone, she was dragging the whole team there with her. As deadly as she was, the doc couldn't handle more than one or two of those things on her own; if she ran into a whole mob of them she was done for and the rest of them were more focused on getting to the rogue blonde than thoroughly checking for threats, leaving them wide open to a blitz attack.

When they finally reached the point where the elevator stopped, the pasty bitch had the gall to sashay out of the car, stepping over the two bubblehead bodies heaped on the floor, and throw an impertinent, "Come on, let's go," over her shoulder. Sheer seriously considered 'accidentally' breaking off one of Harley's ridiculous six inch stiletto heels, just to impede the other woman from sauntering properly for the rest of the night.

* * *

The path Flag and GQ had mapped out for them led the team through a floor of office space, weaving them amongst debris ridden cubicles, papers still fluttering under the wind of the climate control system. The artificially near-silence of the world outside was nothing compared to the oppressive crush of soundlessness that surrounded them now. It was like Sheer could hear each individual breath of each individual person around her, could feel the heat and damp on the back of her neck.

Rick suddenly stopped, signaling the crew to freeze. Every breath was held and the only sound that reached Tamry was the rapid pounding of her own pulse against her eardrums.

"I don't like this, Flag," Floyd spoke what they all felt. There was something… _something_. Someone just walked over their graves.

"I don't like it either," the colonel admitted. Deadshot tugged his signature mask from his belt and pulled it on, a signal to every one of them that had spines straightening and hands gripping guns tighter.

Except for the suicide cheerleader, who remained as relaxed as ever, her favored bat resting casually across hers shoulders like a yoke. She only smirked at her compatriot and sneered, "Pussy."

Deadshot's head whipped towards her and he flicked on the eyepiece that narrowed and focused his vision. "I will knock your ass out," he growled back at her. "I do not care that you're a girl."

To Tamry's right, Croc suddenly snarled, pushing the detective roughly away. Not a blink later and a bubblehead crashed down from the ceiling, landing in the exact spot where Sheer had been standing. The ubiquitous white panels rained down upon the team all over the room, vicious creatures dropping from above in a surprise attack none of them had seen - or heard - coming.

It was madness again, worse than the street because they were enclosed, surrounded by desks and partitions and walls. Friendly fire was as great a threat as the creatures themselves. The room was a death trap.

"They're after Flag again!" Lawton shouted amidst the bedlam. _Again_?

The squad converged as one, chasing down the hostiles that were trying to snatch away their leader. They dropped the trio that had been attempting to drag the colonel out of the room and to god knew where, but more came. Then more, singularly focused on getting ahold of Rick and carrying him off like monsters in the deadly night of a campfire story.

As abruptly as it began, so it stopped. All the creatures were down, their heads scattered across the floor like so much gravel. Two more of their own number had fallen, never to rise again, but - and as ill as it made the detective to think it - they were only support staff. All of her scumbags were still breathing just fine, if heavily.

"Everybody move out!"

The route led them out to where hip-high, glass panels served as safety barriers along walkways and bridges over the empty space that ran up the core of the building. It must have been a lovely atmosphere to work in every day, all the natural lighting filtering down from the rooftop skylight, glinting off the pristine glass and steel. What it wasn't good for, however, was cover against the gunfire that rained down on them as soon as they stepped into the open. There was no where to retreat to, no place to fall back out of the line of fire, because all the walls were glass.

Tamry was thrown to the floor, crushed beneath a heavy bulk that blew the smell of beer and mint against her cheek. She struggled, trying to roll her very human, very vulnerable shield over, to put herself between the unguarded flesh and the hot lead that would tear straight through it. Her vest would offer at least some protection. The sting of broken glass digging into her breasts through her clothing reminded her that her body armor was no more, an early casualty of this madcap war they'd walked into. Still, her body between the guns and Digger's was better than the other way around. The big Aussie disagreed.

"Where you been, homie?" Lawton shouted, furious in a way Sheer had never heard before. "Just gonna let this go down? You don't stand for shit; _you ain't about shit_!"

Sheer couldn't see what was happening, but heard Chato yelling, "Don't touch me!" and Lawton mocking him, "Oh, I'm touching you!" like a stereotypical older brother. It would have been comical if they weren't in the middle of a firefight, if there wasn't only one person to have touched an angry Chato Santana in the last five years and remained above ground.

With an unearthly roar, the world lit up like midday. Tamry could feel the heat against her arms and Digger's hiss against her temple. The attacking creatures shrieked and squealed as El Diablo lived up to his name, blasting them to ash with hellfire. When it was over, when Harkness finally lifted his weight off the detective and helped her up from the floor, two of the bridges were aflame. The glass and steel had melted, compromising the integrity of the structures so they drooped cartoonishly in the middle.

Harley bounded up to the shaking former gangbanger and threw her arms around his shoulders in sunshiny elation. "I knew you'd come through!" she declared, planting a loud smooch to his skull-inked cheek.

"Fuck the long way, GQ," Flag ground out the words through simmering fury that was getting close to boiling over. "These bastards know we're hear. We're switching to the most direct route. If they attack at us on the stairs, at least we'll see 'em coming."

As the team moved on, Digger roughly brushed off the glass that clung to Tamry's clothes, scowling at the smaller woman. "Where's ya' bloody vest?" he demanded.

"It's useless with that big slash in it. The weave lost all tension; it wont stop a bullet," she explained. He scoffed angrily.

"It've stopped the fuckin' glass, though," Boomerang pointed out, gesturing at her torso where half a dozen little red spots could be seen through the slice in her over shirt, blossoming like little roses on the white tee beneath. "And what about ya' fuckin' back?"

"Apparently, I've got _you_ to cover my fuckin' back!" she snapped at him, irritated that he was making a fuss. More irritated that he was making her feel guilty by worrying over her. _She_ was the cop, it was _her_ job to protect people. George ground his teeth and glared at her with blue eyes that were almost ethereal with the fire reflecting in them.

"Reckon I _do_ love the view from behind you," he conceded, with a tight smirk. Tamry could easily see he hadn't let any of the anger go, but he was dropping the argument, and for that she was thankful. Less so when the great goon dropped back half a pace and landed a solid - and very audible - smack on her ass.

"You're gonna pay for that later, Diglett," Sheer warned.

"Oh, darl', I can't wait."

* * *

Either Chato had finished off or scared off the last of the bubbleheads in the building or the creatures were spread out and waiting anywhere but the stairwell, because the Taskforce didn't encounter a single one for the rest of their trek to the top floor. The stairwell opened up directly onto a small sitting area and a large, steel door adorned with signage declaring it a secure area and an electronic keypad access point to match.

There were only four support unit members left, including Lt. Edwards. That was nice, Tamry thought; the man was kind of growing on her. Flag sent them on up to secure the roof. When the rest made to follow the colonel to the secure access door, he held up a hand for them to stop.

"Whoa, just wait here, please?" he half ordered, half begged. "I don't want to give this dude a heart attack. Okay?"

"Awe, he's embarrassed of us!" Quinn cooed with acidic scorning playfulness.

"Have you seen us?" Tamry chuckled and the blonde stuck her tongue out at the detective.

"Hey, Flag," Floyd said, pulling off his mask as the colonel went to punch the access code into the keypad. "This dude better cure cancer after all of this shit."

Sheer couldn't say she disagreed. Waller's Taskforce X wasn't supposed to be an infiltration unit, nor a search and rescue crew. They were strictly seek and destroy. And inhuman, glass-craniumed monsters were not what any of them had signed up for. The game had changed and none of them were prepared. They were lucky to still be alive at this point. The majority of the support unit could attest to that on their gravestones.

Shaking her head, the detective moved to peer out the spread of floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city. It was a hell of a view. The fire that had haloed the Ostrander from behind was in full view here. The top ten floors of the building just across the street were engulfed in a raging inferno. The glowing yellow-orange flicker was mesmerizing. Here, where they were safe from the flames, where no sound or smell could reach, the conflagration was eerily beautiful.

Two breaths and a heartbeat later, Digger was by her side, staring silently out at the blaze. Tamry wondered if he was struggling to hold in a snide comment about marshmallows or some such thing for the benefit of the quiet moment or if he was as struck by the spectacle as she was. His large hand brushed against the back of her smaller one. The tip of his index finger traced the side of hers and Sheer would never admit that it made her heart thump against her ribs. It was such a little thing and shouldn't mean so much. Or should it? Was it supposed to feel like a gift every time they touched? She lifted her fingers and curled them around his. They weren't holding hands, it was just the first two digits hooked haphazardly together. So how could it be anchoring her so securely?

Sheer wanted to know. She needed to know if there was something off about her or if George was even half as affected as she was. She could ask, just a whisper the others wouldn't hear and either a nod or a shake of his head was all the confused woman would need in return. But the door opened before she could work out just what it was she was asking and out stepped HVT-1. _That's why it sounded familiar._

Tamry had only met Amanda Waller once, when she'd been called into Gordon's office and found the woman there waiting, having heard of Sheer's desire to join the rumored Taskforce. It had struck the detective as very Faustian, selling the meager remnants of her soul to an icy demeanored serf of the hory netherlord. Waller wasn't the devil, but they might be kissing cousins. Now, the squad being called in for extraction made sense. Their less than beneficent benefactor would want her first string game winners there to pull her out of whatever sticky spot she'd found herself in.

The sense of tired half-relaxation that had fallen over the team as they waited for their charge to emerge, knowing they were one floor and a chopper ride away from the finish line, evaporated. A band of tension running through and connecting each squad member whiplashed tight with a near-audible snap. As one entity, they stood or turned, drawn to face their true warden like compasses pointing north.

"No way," Quinn breathed, for once quiet and sincere, as dumbstruck as the rest of them.

The air was heavily weighted, crushing as the pack of predators scented blood. Flag stepped closer to his boss as the collection of murderers, thieves, and monsters wordlessly converged on their keeper.

"Let's go home," the colonel told them in an even tone, showing no weakness to feed the cusping mutiny.

"Yeah, let's go home," Digger agreed in a deadly soft shush of a voice that made Tamry's hair rise. For the first time since meeting him, the detective was scared of the convict. "That sounds good. Y'guys wanna go home? Or do y'wanna go back to prison?"

"Who wants to go back to prison?" Harley asked with quiet incredulity, her eyes never flickering away from where they'd locked on Waller. Her shoulders were tight and she wove sinuously from side to side ever so slightly, like a snake ready to strike. She'd picked up the movement from Croc, whose needle-sharp teeth were bared and waiting - the whole team had, Tamry realized. Rocking uneasily from foot to foot, they were so on edge it wouldn't take more than a word, a wrong look to set them off.

Sheer's brain raced as her body readied for the fight. Harley would break first, swinging that bat of hers straight for Waller's head. Flag would pull Amanda back, putting himself between her and the threat and two quick rounds into Quinn's chest. Tatsu would draw her cursed katana and cut down the first convict in her path, which was Digger. Croc would launch himself at Flag and no matter how many shots the colonel could pop off, the beast would take him down. Then Floyd would put a bullet right between Waller's eyes, another through Katana's skull, and maybe one to put Flag out of his misery as Croc literally devoured him.

Tamry was shaking, her palm sweating where it gripped her sidearm. How could she stop it? How could she stop _them_? In defiance of the scenario Sheer's mind supplied, Tatsu's patience gave out first and the diminutive samurai growled a warning none of them needed to speak Japanese to understand. She moved to protect her patron, her namesake blade half drawn already, but Waller pushed the tiny death-knight back again.

"I got this," the head of the snake hissed. "You all made it this far," she told the squad, meeting each hateful, salivating gaze in turn. Her voice was pure condescension and unshakable confidence, devoid not only of doubt, but anything resembling humanity. "Don't get high-spirited on me and ruin a good thing."

Waller lifted her hand and in her hand was a cell phone and on that cell phone were displayed five mug shots. Her thumb hovered bare millimeters over the pictures, a fraction of a second and a twitch of muscle the only thing between skin and touch-sensitive glass - between life and death.

It had been so long since Flag had threatened any of the squad with the nanite explosive imbedded in their necks, it had been easy to forget their existence. The squad functioned because it needed to, because they'd allowed themselves to rely on each other, to trust each other, and to become people they never would have otherwise. Tamry had been desperately trying to think of a way to stop the others from killing Waller. Seeing the woman literally holding _her_ scumbags' lives in her hand and the unrestrained willingness to take those lives without a moment's hesitation or regret, the detective couldn't think of a single reason why she should stop them at all.

Aside from their aforementioned lack of patience and impulse control, another trait shared by a majority of the team was an incredibly strong instinct for self-preservation. When Waller showed her hand, they froze, and no one so much as lifted a finger to stop her as the icy woman walked through the center of the group and towards the stairwell. Flag followed after her, unable or unwilling to meet anyone's eye as he went, Tatsu close at his heels. The remainder of the team looked at one another, practically vibrating with poisonous energy. They'd come so close, _so close_ to freedom and just as close to death.

Sheer took Digger's hand then, squeezing tight to remind both him and herself that he was still there and she was still there with him. She knocked her shoulder against the giant beside her and Croc snarled, but they both knew he wouldn't hurt her.

"C'mon, guys," Tamry said, forcing some lightness into her tone that she didn't feel, but they all needed badly. "Let's go. I bet I can talk Flag into some strippers after this bullshit."

Floyd snorted, but his knuckle-crackingly tight grip on his rifle eased. "After _this_ bullshit, Flag should _be_ the stripper."

"Ow, I didn't know y'two had got so close," Digger grinned as the group finally started moving.

"I didn't say I'd enjoy it, just that his ass should do it," the assassin insisted in his customary deadpan.

"Naughty soldier or dirty fireman?" Harley wondered, a little bit of bounce back in her step. Lawton made a sound of disgust in reply that set the others to laughing. It wasn't entirely genuine, not yet, but it was enough to give Tamry some relief.

"Maybe if we're lucky, Waller'll fall off the roof," George offered. "Get blown over the edge by the downdraft, yeah?"

Floyd shook his head. "Man, when the hell have we ever been lucky?"

By the time the reached the roof, the helicopter was already hovering at the edge while GQ tried to raise them on the radio. It should have been Flag making contact, but the colonel seemed far more interested in the tarpaper beneath his feet and the tiny specks of glass glittering on his bootlaces. Maybe he was feeling guilty, maybe that was why he was slow to grasp what it only took Tamry a moment to comprehend - something didn't smell right.

"Boss, they're not talking to me," Edwards told his CO. Rick perked, looking over at the man, then at the chopper, which was slowly spinning its ass-end towards the roof.

"Our bird's been jacked!" he declared, raising his rifle. "Light it up!"

The soldiers only managed four rounds before the tail of the copter began spouting fire at them all. Not fire, but so many bullets so fast it looked like a white hot line of light spraying death at them all. Tamry shoved Boomerang with all her strength, knocking the big man down behind one of the large electrical transformer boxes on the rooftop. He grunted as he slammed against it and Sheer immediately tried to curl herself around him. As far as she was concerned, this was her place. She was a police officer and the most expendable member of the squad, she belonged between her teammates and the bullets whizzing by them. The Aussie had other ideas and superior strength to make them reality; he hauled her around to his other side and tucked her between himself at the steel.

Above the sound of the rotors, above the sporadic rifle report and the unceasing deep sputter of the Gatling gun, rose a sound that more than anything else that night made Sheer's blood run cold. Any Gothamite would know that laugh and in its presence proceed to piss themselves - and rightly so. There was only one reason that laugh would have found its way to Midway City on this night of all nights.

" _Harley!_ " the detective shrieked, struggling to push her way from under the man determined to keep her safe. " _Harley, don't!_ "

Floyd echoed Sheer's cry, but there was no response from the blonde.

"Kill her!" Waller shouted.

"Her nanite's disarmed!" Flag bellowed in return. With their prize in hand, the Joker and his minions lost interest in the occupants of the roof. The gunfire stopped as abrupt as someone shutting off the tap and the only sound was the retreating helicopter and the exuberant giggles of a giddy slaughter sprite winging her way to freedom.

Digger finally released her and Tamry scrambled to her feet, rushing forward as if there was still a chance to stop the doc. Quinn was dangling precariously, but fearlessly from a long cord the Joker had tossed down from the open bay of the chopper. She saw the detective and waved, blew a kiss, smiling with wide, manic glee. Tamry wanted to throw up.

"Deadshot, shoot that woman right now!" Waller commanded, stalking towards the assassin, furious and demanding blood. Floyd turned incredulous eyes on their sponsor.

"She ain't do shit to me," he declared, unperturbed.

"You're a hitman right? I got a contract," she pressed. Ichor seeped from her words. "Kill Harley Quinn. Do it for your freedom and your kid."

The two things Floyd would do anything for, the only things he wanted in the world, the only things that meant anything to the stonehearted killer. He didn't even blink.

"Oh, she dead."

Tamry felt as though her mind and body were trying to tear themselves in half. Harley was a killer, more of a monster than any of the others. Having her loose on the streets, back in the company of the Clown Prince of Crime would mean bodies - piles of them. Det. Sheer of the GPD knew this and knew taking her out now would save lives. Temerity of the Suicide Squad saw _one_ life, her friend in the crosshairs of the man who'd never missed a shot. Croc and Digger were shackled by the nanite in their necks, there was nothing they could do. Tamry could stop it, she could stop Floyd, she could save Harley.

She never moved.

She was stone, she was ice. Even Harkness's warm hand laid supportive at the small of her back couldn't reach through the shroud of sick guilt that swathed her. The rifle fired and they all flinched. Harley tumbled down the length of rope before a coil caught her wrist and left her hanging, limp and lifeless. Sheer's heart lurched, though the rational, pragmatic part of her mind that was ever dominant told her this was the right thing - Quinn dead, innocents safe.

Then the still retreating spectre of death and fluff bounced back to vibrancy, kicking her heels up with impish delight at her little ruse. Tamry's shoulders sagged with relief. Relief. Her stomach rolled.

Floyd grinned down at Waller. "I missed."

He left Amanda there, shaking in rage and watching the chopper fade into the distance. He sauntered back to where the remaining squad stood, taking his place amongst the team.

"Good one, mate," Boomerang complimented softly.

Not about to have her rancor denied, Waller snatched the walkie from Rick's belt and raised it to her lips. "It's Waller; Savior 1-0's been hijacked. Shoot it down," she ordered.

" _Roger that, ma'am,_ " replied the air support leader. " _Going hot_."

Thirty seconds later - Tamry could tell, because she counted the heartbeats - and an explosion; twelve more and another.

" _Target destroyed, ma'am,_ " air support announced.

"Thank you. Now, get me off this roof."

" _Yes, ma'am; we are inbound_."

Waller turned around to face the others, handing Flag back his walkie without so much as flicking an eye in his direction. Her unnaturally calm, cold demeanor had been restored, the mask of aloof superiority pulled back into place. "The Joker and Harley Quinn are no more."

Tamry could feel Floyd sag beside her and was right there with him, though she knew she shouldn't be. Shouldn't she be? Was it not possible to mourn a monster? Wasn't that _human_?

"You couldn't save her." Digger's tone was uncharacteristically gentle, consoling, full of understanding and shared regret. He was talking to Lawton, she thought, but the hand rubbing her back said that the words were for her as well. As tears burned in the detective's eyes, her stomach roiled violently.

"I'm gonna throw up," she said, twisting away from the Aussie and shoving passed the rest of the squad, staggering to an empty corner of the roof to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments. They make me squeal with delight - and that is not hyperbole.


	8. Night Like a Rollercoaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tamry didn't buy the ticket and she's not enjoying the ride

The second chopper, the one that had shot down Savior 1-0, arrived on the roof before Tamry had even finished puking her guts out. Digger hovered by her side like a worried mother, rubbing soothing circles into her back; all the while keeping up a running commentary.

"That's it, love. Better out than in. What is that, corn? Did y'even eat corn today?"

The woman let out a sound that was like a laugh, but was pure incredulous disgust. "Do you ever shut up?"

"I dunno," he replied, thoughtfully. "I might talk in my sleep. You'll hafta stay over and find out sometime, eh?"

"Are you thinking about sex while I'm yakking?" she demanded, glaring at him from the corner of her eye while her stomach decided whether or not it was finished.

"Well, yer all bent over, Tem Tam," he told her in his defense. "Already told you I like the view."

"You're a pig, Digger." The man just chuckled at that pronouncement.

"What's that say about you, then, eh?" he challenged teasingly. Fairly certain she wasn't going to heave again, Tamry blew the taste of vomit out of her nose.

"I've got really poor judgment," she told him. George only grinned widely.

"Can't argue with that," he conceded without insult.

"Shit," Lt. Edwards suddenly hissed. "Boss, we got a problem. Ops just confirmed - Waller's down, 1k west."

"Dammit," Flag grunted. He took a breath and huffed it out, moving back to where the squad was gathered near the door - save Tamry and Harkness a bit further off. He sounded more than a little reluctant when he told them, "Mission's not over."

Floyd shook his head. "Nah, it is for me. They're sayin' the bitch is down? Let her ass stay down."

"Right, yeah," Digger agreed. "Let's just cut out."

"You can't just _leave_ ," Sheer insisted, though she felt no great loss for Amanda Waller.

The Aussie laughed incredulously. "Why not?"

"Yeah, why not, Flag?" Deadshot prodded, looking straight through the man before him. "You gonna stop us? Gonna use that remote on your arm and pop our heads one by one?"

"Even if I don't, how far do you think you'll get?" the colonel said. His voice was firm and earnest, but lacking any kind of passion. "If you don't end up dead, you'll go right back to Belle Reve. No team, no preferential treatment, no time off. Without Waller, you got nothing."

No preferential treatment meant solitary confinement for Chato and Croc, locked down twenty-three hours a day and no human contact that wasn't Belle Reve's guards. For Digger and Floyd, it would be general population and no protection. The men weren't helpless, but they'd be vulnerable, each with a target on his back - Floyd's, the result of his long years of wet work and Digger's, his big mouth and penchant for turning on his partners. No team for Tamry meant going back to the GPD. That was her life and she didn't mind, but Belle Reve was a long way from Gotham and the prison was a black site, which meant the chances of visitation were practically nonexistent. She'd lose Boomerang.

"Let's go get the bitch," the detective growled, stalking her way off the roof as the sky opened up and wept on the city.

* * *

 

No one spoke a word on the way down, all of them feeling the weight of fatigue - mental and physical - even the soldiers. The quiet left Tamry too much to her own thoughts, not a single one of which was good and by the time they were on ground level again, she was exhausted. She just wanted the night to end, but had a feeling it was far from over.

"Son of a bitch," GQ said as they all trooped out into the rain. Tamry didn't look up until Harkness gave her a nudge and what she saw made her jaw drop. Sitting atop an abandoned police cruiser like a soggy Juggalo pinup was the Queen of Gotham city.

"Hey, guys!" she called with false brightness, the rain a perfect excuse for the way her makeup ran away from her reddened eyes. "I'm back! I missed you all so much!"

"We're glad you could make it," Floyd told her gently. They all knew he meant it beyond what words could say. The others smiled at her in somber welcome, knowing the only reason she'd have come back at all was if she was alone. Maybe it was an unspoken rule amongst criminals that they should remain subdued and strong, stoic in the face of the inexplicable. Maybe, but Temerity Sheer had never gotten that memo.

At that moment, Sheer didn't care if the blonde was a killer, she was back from the dead and hurting and it didn't matter who she was hurting for. The detective put a boot in the car's wheel well and kneed up onto the hood. Harley slipped down the windshield like a waterslide and into Tamry's open arms. 'Touch Harley Quinn' was officially scratched off the top of the _Shit You Should Never Do_ list as the fatal fairy with the broken wings sobbed once against the other woman's hair.

"We gotta get moving," the colonel called from not far off.

"Fuck off, Flag!" Tamry snarled. "We're having a girl moment!"

Harley laughed. Laughed and laughed through her tears that pretended to be rain drops, pulling back to smile at the redhead who hugged her.

"I missed you most of all, doll face," she declared. "But you smell like puke, so I ain't gonna kiss ya'."

"Fuckin' 'ell, I got a mint here somewhere," Digger promised, frantically checking his pockets. He groaned in despondent protest as the two women pulled apart and slid off the car. He pouted greatly while the team finally started moving out again.

"If you had a mint, why didn't you give it to me already?" Tamry demanded.

"I've only got just the one," the man replied. "I don't mind if y'taste like vom; don't put me off a pash, sugar."

"So you're selfish _and_ gross."

"And y'still wanna fuck me." George grinned down at her. He wasn't wrong. With the blue Captain jacket she'd returned unzipped to the neck of his tank and the rain pouring off his jaw and down his throat in rivulets, Tamry kind of wanted to do it right then. They say stress and violence lead to sexual arousal; they were right on the money. Or Captain Boomerang was just supremely fuckable. _Six of one, half dozen of the other_.

* * *

 

They found the downed chopper, complete with pilot, copilot, and one soldier, but no Waller to complete the set.

"So, let me guess - we're going to the swirling ring of trash in the sky," Floyd posited. "You know, 'cause why wouldn't we?" Rick only looked back at him silently and that was all the answer any of them needed. "Say somethin' to me, Flag."

"Load up. We're in for a fight." It was something, but may as well have been nothing. The soldiers and Floyd picked through the chopper, grabbing what guns and ammo they could find. GQ tossed Tamry a pair of clips for her sidearm, but there wasn't much else to be had and the team moved on.

Sheer jogged up to the front, falling in step beside the man they all followed. "We all know this isn't some bullshit terrorist attack. What have we been fighting tonight? What is that thing?"

"I don't know what it is, just that it's where we need to go," he said.

"You know more than that," she insisted. "What aren't you telling us?"

Flag remained stubbornly silent, but Tamry didn't need to force his hand - Floyd would do it for her. As they started to pass yet another abandoned car, a large binder came flying past the detective's shoulder to slam wetly against the passenger window before falling to the rain soaked roadway. Sheer and Flag whirled around to find Lawton bearing down on them - on _Flag_ \- his eyes flashing accusal, his face hard with rage.

"You tell everybody _everything_ ," he ordered the colonel. "Or me and you gonna go right now."

That promise held meaning. With all the tension and animosity between them, all the insults, comments, and cutting remarks, never once had the duo's deep hostility ever led to violence. Rick looked at the team gathered around him and finally relented.

"Two days ago, a non-human entity appeared in a subway station near where that lightshow's coming from," he told them haltingly. "Like you said, Sheer, infiltration is Enchantress territory, so Waller sent me and June in to take it out. The thing had moved up into the terminal by that point and we took position right under it. Had a focused demo charge. It was supposed to be quick; she takes the bomb, hits the two second timer, and gets out."

Tamry was glad she'd emptied her stomach because it rolled sickeningly now. Was June dead? Was that why she couldn't extract Waller?

Flag ran a hand over his face and she could see the tremor in it. "She bolted. Left me with the bomb and was gone."

"Gone?" Floyd asked. Rick nodded.

"See, Waller keeps y'all in line with the nanites, but Enchantress is different. Amanda had her heart in a box rigged with a little C4. Heart gets destroyed, witch dies. What we didn't know was that the thing in the subway is her brother. I dunno where he was or what happened that he got loose, but it doesn't matter. He kept her alive. Now, they got Waller and the heart, and that thing-" the tower of lightning "… I dunno what it does, but intelligence thinks it's some kind of weapon."

"We're going after _June_?" Sheer glared at the man, at the phantom of Waller who had brought them in; now they were being set on one of their own. One of their own who could kill every one of them.

"Feel better now that you know?" Flag asked, his voice brutally hollow.

"You can just kill me right now, but I'm goin' to have a drink," Floyd declared dismissively. He motioned towards the building at his right, which Tamry hadn't even realized was a bar until he started walking towards it.

"Deadshot, I need your help," Rick told him, urgent and hoarse.

"No, sir," the assassin proclaimed. "You need a miracle."

Lawton disappeared into the bar, swiftly followed by Quinn. Digger held out a hand to the detective.

"C'mon love," he urged. She shook her head at Flag.

"You should have told us." Sheer stalked away, letting Boomerang loop his arm about her waist, glad to have the solidity if his bulk beside her.

* * *

 

It was de ja vu all over again for Sheer as she sat on a stool at the bar, Digger slotted in beside her, Harley behind the counter serving up drinks to the squad. Hell, Quinn was even soaked again - though this time it was rain water and not from a sprinkler system that Chato had set off. And, this time, Boomerang was perched sideways on his stool with Tamry corralled safely between his knees, the heel of his palm resting on the back of her seat. If he'd tried that the last time, she would have given him a swift jab right to the Adam's apple, but now she was more than happy to have him there.

Santana got water again, Floyd and Tatsu whiskey. Croc got himself a beer and went to lounge in a booth that was backed by a large fish tank, watching the fish drift back and forth behind the glass.

"Shirley Temple, extra cherry, detective?" Harley sought confirmation, but Tamry shook her head.

"Not tonight, doc," she told the blonde. "I think I'd like to spent some time with my friend Jack. Two fingers, neat."

"Oh, gonna hang with the big boys tonight, huh?" Lawton asked, almost playful as Harley poured the amber liquid into a glass as asked.

"That's a cute little sippy cup you got there, Floyd," Sheer snarked in return, picking up her glass and dropping back the whiskey with ease. The man laughed and Harley applauded. The detective set the tumbler back down and motioned for another, licking the taste off her finger.

"Didn't know y'had it in you, darl'," Digger grinned, impressed. She shrugged.

"It's a fucked up night."

"I'll drink to that," the Aussie declared, tipping his beer up and draining it. He tossed the empty can aside and popped open another - there were several on the bar in front of him.

Lawton lifted his own shot glass. "Here's to honor among thieves," he toasted, turning to Tatsu, who was on his other side. The tiny woman rejected his offer.

"I'm not a thief," she declared, moving down towards the end of the bar, feeling some arbitrary need to separate herself. No one took offense.

"Oh, she's not a thief," Floyd repeated Katana's assertion with just a hint of mockery. Harley was more than happy to clink her fruity girl drink with his whiskey. When Lawton turned to her, Sheer shrugged and gave him a half grin, raising her glass to his.

"Hell, I'll be a thief tonight."

"There's a girl!" Digger praised, tapping his beer can against her tumbler.

After dropping his shot back, Floyd mused, "Well, we almost pulled it off, despite what everybody thought. Worst part of it is, they're gonna blame us for the whole thing. They can't have people knowing the truth. We're the patsies, the cover up. Don't forget, we're the bad guys."

"Fuck that, we got shit _done_ ," Sheer insisted with a frown. They had, but… it was over, now. She leaned towards Harkness, resting her head on his shoulder. It didn't matter that the others could see, soon she wouldn't be able to touch him at all and she wanted to take advantage of every second left to her.

"You know, for about two _sweet_ seconds… I had hope," Floyd said, bitter sweet.

"You had hope, huh?" Chato spoke up, bitter without the sweet. "Hope don't stop the world from turning, my brother."

"You preaching?" Lawton asked as if the notion was laughable. Santana went on, undeterred.

"It's coming back around for you. How many people you killed, man?"

The assassin's face twisted up into insulted incredulity. "You don't ask nobody no question like that, ese."

"You ain't never whacked down no women, no kids." The way Diablo said it made it sound like a challenge. Tamry's stomach twisted around the whiskey ember warming her from within and souring the feeling. She knew how Chato ended up in police custody.

"I don't kill women or children," Floyd told the other man soberly.

"I do." Two words drew the eyes and earned the silence of everyone in the bar. "See, I was born with the devil's gift. I kept it hidden most of my life, but the older I got, the stronger it got, so I started using it - for business, you know. The more power on the street I got, the more firepower I got, like that shit went hand in hand; you know, one was feeding the other. Ain't nobody tell me no… except my old lady.

"She kept me in line, made my house a home, gave me two beautiful babies. She use to pray for me, even when I didn't want it. God didn't give me this." He held his hand flat and a small flame blossomed in the center of his palm, forming itself into a woman that swayed sensually. "Why should he take it away?

The pyromancer upended his empty water glass and settled it over the dancing flame. "But, you've seen it; when I get mad, I lose control. I don't know what I do… 'til it's done."

The tiny elemental pounded her fists on the glass, then sank in on herself, slowly succumbing to the deficit of oxygen and snuffing out in a thin curl of smoke.

"And the kids?" Digger demanded, his voice tight and rough.

Chato didn't answer, so Harley did it for him. "He killed them. Didn't you?"

The words seemed to hit Harkness like a physical blow and Tamry looked up to find him gazing down at her, looking heartbreakingly lost, his blue eyes filled with tears. For all his bluster and bravado, disgusting remarks and crude behavior, George was the softest of them all. She pulled his arm off the bar where it rested beside his beer and wrapped it around her waist. He dropped his forehead against hers, giving his head a single shake. He just couldn't understand and that was to his credit. Tamry stroked the back of his hand, trying to offer what comfort she could.

"Own that shit," Harley suddenly hissed. " _Own it_!"

Floyd tried to back her off, but the woman just sank her teeth in deeper, incensed by the gangbanger's sorrow and regret.

"What, did you just think you can have a happy family? Coach little leagues and have car payments?" she demanded of the grief-stricken Chato.

"Harley, stop," Tamry said, but was likewise ignored.

"Normal's a setting on the _dryer_. People like us, we don't get _normal_!"

"Why is it always a knife fight every single time you open ya' mouth?!" Digger demanded, loud and angry, her cruel words having rubbed salt in the open wound Santana's admission had left. He lashed out at the sharp tongued woman. "Y'know, outside yer amazing, but inside _yer ugly_."

"We all are. _We_ _all are!_ " Harley declared back at him, all but shouting. She shrugged one shoulder and tipped her chin towards Croc. "Except him; he's ugly on the outside, too."

The lizard man snarled and tossed his head back arrogantly. "Not me, shorty. I'm beautiful."

"Damn right, you are," Tamry agreed vehemently.

"I meant you, too, you know," Quinn said, but the aggression was gone from her voice. Boomerang stiffened, but Tamry's easy nod kept him quiet for the moment.

"I know. And I don't think you're wrong, exactly," Sheer told her. "Maybe we are all ugly, but that's not _all_ we are."

The door opened and Flag entered the bar, moving like a sleepwalker as he went to take the empty seat beside Floyd, setting his rifle on the bartop.

"We don't want you here," Harley told him.

"You know, doc, I think you've said enough," Tamry decreed. The other woman shot her a venomous, if injured look, but didn't say anything else. No one did for a long moment.

It was Floyd who finally broke the silence. "I never been with a witch before. What's that like?"

Flag sighed brokenly. "The only woman I ever cared about is trapped inside that monster. If I don't stop her, it's over; _everything_ is over. Everything."

He peeled back the Velcro that held the nanites' remote detonator to his arm and smashed the device on the edge of the bar.

"I don't blame you for not caring. You didn't ask for any of this. If you wanna go, I'm not gonna stop you."

Almost before the words processed for Tamry, Digger had scooped her up from her seat and made for the exit.

"George!" she yelped as he kicked open the door and stepped into the bar's entryway. She squirmed a kicked, wriggling from his grasp. The man set her on her feet, but didn't let go.

"Come on, darl'," he urged. "You and me, yeah? We can go to Gotham if that's what y'want."

"We can't leave! Didn't you hear what Flag said?"

"Course I heard. He ain't gonna stop us, Tam. We're free!" Digger declared. Sheer shook her head.

"Did you miss the giant column of lightning outside? What you do think that mud-bitch is doing, trying to make it rain gumdrops?" she asked harshly.

"It's not our fight!" he barked, giving her a shake.

"Then whose is it?!" she shouted back, shoving out of his grasp. Harkness let her go and stared, caught between anger and confusion, need and betrayal. "We should just let the world burn because we don't _have_ to fight? Because we're bad guys and not heroes? I know I'm just a corrupt Gotham cop with blood and shit up to my elbows and I'm ugly and that's _who I am_. I can still step up when it counts and be there when my friends need me. If you want to go, _go_. Just fucking go!"

Boomerang still only stared at her. She could tell he wasn't happy about it, but in the end it didn't matter. He didn't say a word, just turned and walked out the door. Tamry didn't bother to lie to herself, to pretend her heart didn't break when the last thing she saw of Digger Harkness was his back and he didn't even say goodbye. She did swallow back the tears, because they were useless, worthless, and meaningless. No one who saw them would care and they did her no good. He might have wanted her and needed her, maybe; she'd never know. But he clearly wanted and needed other things more and that was fine, that was fair. She just wished what he'd wanted and needed was to care about something other than himself. It didn't have to be _her_ ; _anything_ other than himself would have done.

* * *

 

Tamry turned to head back into the bar proper, but the door opened and Floyd and Flag stepped out. Thankfully neither man asked for confirmation of the obvious, they simply nodded to her and the three continued out onto the street. The others soon followed and the team made their way towards the subway terminal. The rain had stopped falling and Sheer was sorry for it. Even if she wouldn't let herself cry, the raindrops on her cheeks would have let her pretend she had.

They'd barely made it half a block when Digger fell in step a few paces back at Tamry's right side. Motherfucker broke her heart and here he was, not five minutes later marching toward battle right along with the rest of them. Forget holding back tears, it was all she could do not to spin around and punch him right in the dick. _Fuckin' shitbag_.

* * *

 

As pissed off as she was at him, the shitbag turned out to be marginally useful. One of the Captain's boomerangs was less of a boomerang and more of a drone - complete with smartphone radio controls and a high definition camera. _Well, he had to spend all that ill gotten loot somehow_. They edged up as close to the terminal as Flag felt was safe and Digger sent his little silver friend off and flying, giving them a look at what was going on inside the hornets' nest.

Tamry had been thinking that the walk there had been too easy; they hadn't seen a single bubblehead since the Ostrander building. There didn't appear to be any in the terminal either and the witch had to know they wouldn't just pack it in, which begged the question - where had her minions gone?

"Enchantress's brother is called Incubus," Flag said when she asked. "June told me that he sucks the life out of people - that's what happened in the subway. He might be feeding off the ones she's turned."

"So he's gonna be hungry when we get there. That's awesome."

"We gotta take him out," Floyd stated the obvious. Rick side-eyed the assassin thoughtfully.

"I left a big ass demo charge down there in the subway," he told them, warming to the plan forming in his head as he spoke. "There's a flooded tunnel that runs right under the terminal. The SEALs can recover the charge, swim it right underneath that thing's feet. We get in its face and distract the hell outta that sumbitch so the swimmers can blow the bomb. That's how we take it out."

"Sounds like a plan," Lawton nodded.

* * *

 

GQ and the other SEALs broke off, heading back through the city to a safe area where a chopper could bring them their diving gear. The squad holed up at the entrance to the subway and took stock of what gear they had and what shape it was in. Tamry only had her sidearm and the baton she'd lifted off Griggs. Not much to keep her mind occupied, not much to be taking into a battle to save the world.

Tatsu had even less, but seemed far more confident and ready than the detective. The pint-sized woman was kneeling just outside the door, speaking in quiet, but urgent Japanese to the exposed blade of her katana.

"The man who killed her husband used that sword," Flag explained softly. "His soul's trapped inside of it. She talks to him."

"Yeah, well, you know what they say about the crazy ones," Digger intoned, just to be obnoxious, but it was easy to see his heart wasn't in it. Harley took the bait.

"Huh?" The men chuckled, soft and subdued.

Tamry did not. She was watching Tatsu weep over her sword. The detective's eyes shifted, sliding over to the man almost directly across from her, leaning against the wall, sharpening the already razor edges of his boomerang. Digger had shed the large overcoat for the moment and looked tired. The bruise ringing his right eye had deepened to a dark eggplant and there were other bruises, numerous small cuts and scrapes from the glass in the federal building. He was smudged with dirt, despite the rain that still dampened and tried to tamp down his wild curls.

"What's the ETA on the SEALs?"

Flag looked at his watch. "Thirty."

Tamry stepped forward and took the boomerang and whet stone from Digger's hands, dropping them onto his coat. He didn't fight her, didn't ask why, just let her pull him down the non-functional escalator and into the ladies' room at the bottom. They weren't even inside the door before she was pulling his head down to crush her mouth to his. Boomerang shoved her against the sinks, lifting her up onto the counter and splitting her legs wide with his hips. They were both desperate to get at the other's skin, fingers fumbling as hands shook.

Sheer tore at Digger's jacket and when she couldn't make the zipper cooperate, she just grabbed for the hem of his tank and yanked the whole lot over his head. Because her overshirt was ruined anyway, the man apparently didn't feel any compunction against destroying it further and ripped the fabric away. At least some rational thought still rattled around in his mind, because he wasn't so destructive with her undershirt, just shoving that garment out of his way.

She was already getting his pants open when George dropped his mouth to her breast and bit down hard enough to make her shriek his name. Her head fell back against the mirror and Tamry whimpered at the pleasure-pain his mouth inflicted, tugging sharply at the flesh between his teeth and sucking hard. He didn't bother to sooth, not this time, only released her and moved on, his teeth leaving mark after mark on her chest and throat as he jerked her pants down her thighs.

Sheer shoved his jeans away, curling her hands around his already rock hard cock, moaning over the velvet heat of it searing into her palms. Digger didn't let her savor it; he hooked his arms under her knees, folding the woman up on herself and pulling her to the edge of the countertop.

"Y'wet enough for me, Tam?" he panted. "Don't wanna hurt you, darl'."

She laughed breathless and incredulous, trying to guide him inside her regardless. "Never stopped you before."

"It's stoppin' me now," he growled. The determined man pushed a hand between them, slipping his fingers into his lover. She was hot and wet, more than ready for him mentally, but still so tight physically. "Want y'feelin' nothin' but pleasure, understand? Just my cock workin' ya candy cunt so good it's the only thing in the world to you."

Tamry whined, rocking herself against his hand as he thrust his fingers in and out of her tight slit. "It's always like that, Digger," she insisted. "Please don't make me wait. We've only got thir-"

"We've got all the time in the world, love," he purred, claiming her mouth in a luscious kiss that wiped every protest from her lips. He slowly, thoroughly stroked her inner walls, nudging her spot and thumbing her clit until she was right on the brink, shivering with how close she was. "Now, y'can have me, darl'."

Another whimper followed his fingers as he pulled them from her. "God, yes, _please_!" She gasped as her hands kept his aim true and George surged into her, stretching and filling her until Tamry thought she'd burst and still wouldn't have asked him to stop. He drew back and she clung to him, not wanting to lose any of that perfect fullness, but when he drove in again, it was even better. He'd had her primed and ready to blow, so it only took one more deep thrust for Sheer to arch against him and erupt into sobbing moans, spasming around his still pistoning length again and again.

"Fuck, George, I'm coming!"

Digger groaned loudly. "I know y'are, Tam. I can feel ya' cunt grippin' me tight. Y'want to keep my cock deep inside you always, don't you?"

She did and admitted it freely, pleadingly as if it were something he could actually offer. He shuddered and pumped his hips harder, fingers digging into her waist where he held on tight.

"Fuck, Tamry!" was all the warning the woman got before her lover slammed himself as deep as he could go and lost himself to her. Every throb of his cock was accompanied by a jerk of his hips, rocking their bodies as he tried futilely to merge them into one.

His head fell to rest on her shoulder, face mashed against the bunched up fabric of her shirt. Her own head leaned against the mirror at an uncomfortable angle she couldn't be bothered to correct. Large hands left off her bruised hips, sliding up her spine, greedy and possessive. Smaller ones were splayed wide over his broad, muscular back, just as greedy, just as much a declaration of ownership.

"I wanted to go off with you, Tam," George said quietly, kissing her shoulder before and after the statement. He pulled her up from the mirror, flattening his forearm against her spine, and pressed his forehead to hers. His fingers wove into her disheveled copper locks to keep her there when she would have looked away, trying to hide the wetness beading on her lashes. "To Gotham, to anywhere. I know y'wouldn't give up ya' job and a good copper can't be with no shit bogan thief. I got plenty a' cash. I'd a' hung it all up."

"No, you wouldn't,' Tamry contradicted in a watery voice. "You couldn't."

He sighed. "Maybe so. But I'd've tried."

Tears spilled over, leaving twin trails down her cheeks, because she believed him. It was ridiculous and too soon for this kind of talk, this kind of sentiment and attachment. But it was also too late.

"Y'still mine, darl'," he insisted, brushing his lips against hers as he spoke. "I'm a greedy, selfish bloke and I take what I want n' keep it all to myself."

"Digger, stop talking," she begged. His soft words and softer kisses were crushing her ribs. He let out a breathy chuckle into her mouth.

" _That_ we both know I can't do," the man joked lightly. Sheer started to protest again, but a smooth, deep roll of his hips stole her breath away. "Not finished with you, yet. Never finished with you. Y'll never be quit of me, Tem Tam. Ol' Cap-"

Tamry laced her fingers together behind his neck, covering his endless chatter with the wet need of her mouth. He groaned into her, words lost to sensation as his hips fell into rhythm. It was clear he wanted to go slow, draw out and savor every slide of flesh on flesh, every brush of nerve against nerve. It was what Boomerang wanted and he tried to take it, but her urgent whimpers and tight, hungry slickness wouldn't let him. He moved harder, faster, until he was slamming into her hard enough to hurt.

"Yes! Just like that!" Sheer gasped, whined, crying his name again and again. She even called him Captain and earned a beautifully ragged groan. His teeth were clenched against the need to bite, to mark, because he refused to give up closeness for savagery. His forehead stayed against hers, their lips never more than a breath apart as they sucked each other's air and swallowed each other's words, lusty moaned declarations of pleasure, how good the other felt, naming and praising different parts of their bodies, and he told her he loved her, again and again until they couldn't speak anymore.

They came together, breaking apart into bright, sparking shards that mingled and grasped until they couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. The tiny pieces fused back together into two separate beings, but in the chaos Tamry was certain some of his had slipped in with hers. Little, glowy bits of Digger Harkness nestled inside her here and there, happily making themselves at home as if they owned the place.


	9. Boss Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our band of intrepid warriors head into the final dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you guys for all the great comments. Seriously, you're awesome and make me feel awesome when I see how much you're enjoying the story. Now, strap in - shit's about to hit the fan.

Harkness stretched his legs across the sink counter, ankles crossed comfortably, his back leaning against the tiles with Tamry curled up in his lap, her face tucked against his neck. They'd dressed again and, though she didn't strictly need it, he'd zipped her up securely into his Captain jacket. He was softly jabbering about a summer in his teens when he'd decided to become a pearl diver and realized how absolutely terrified he was of octopi. Tamry had no idea what had brought up the memory and was morbidly curious if there was some point to the story.

"Y'd think it'd be sharks, right? Straya, white sharks," he mused, brushing a lock of copper hair against his own clavicle. "Nah. Bloody sea aliens. Y'know some of em' got little teeth in their suckers? Bloody fuck is what!"

She laughed softly at his horrified tone.

"Y'don't think that's fucked up?" he demanded. The detective shrugged.

"I think they're neat," she told him, slightly apologetic. He made a sound of disgust and betrayal, which only made her laugh again. The mirth died in her throat as their radios crackled.

" _If you two are about finished_ ," Flag's voice came over the comms. " _SEALs just got back. They're gearin' up now_."

"Copy that," Tamry responded, then sighed before hopping down off her lover's lap. Digger stood and stretched his long limbs, grumbling softly to himself. She went for the door, but he flattened his hand against the green-painted wood and held it shut.

"Tam, before we go out there, there's somethin' y'should see," he said. When she turned to face him, George was pulling a folded up piece of paper from his pocket. He offered it to her. "That binder Deadshot found wasn't just about the clusterfuck we're dealin' with here; was stuff about all of us in it."

Sheer's brow furrowed as she took the still damp paper and carefully unfolded it. She blinked in surprise to find that the page had her own picture on it - the one from her police academy graduation - where she'd been expecting to find Digger's. She'd thought there was some secret he wanted her to know, but couldn't say outloud. Now, she was just confused.

"Nothing about my past is a secret, George," the woman said, looking up at her lover. "I always figured there was a dossier on me."

"Read it," he ordered gently, nodding down at the page in her hands. Tamry did as he said, not sure where he was going with this, but willing to follow along. Instead of clearing up her confusion, what was printed on the paper only made it worse.

_Det. Tamry Elsvet Sheer. AKA Temerity. Gotham Police Dept. Blah blah blah. Multiple instances… hospitalization… unqualified recovery… multiple GSW, puncture wounds, fractured bones, head trauma…_ Okay, so she was resilient and lucky. Her early years on the job were highlighted, specifically two instances where her former patrol partners had been taken down - one with a bullet through his skull - during a couple of really nasty situations. Both men had survived, but had come so close to going out they'd been labeled miracles and Sheer had gotten a reputation for being a bad luck charm. There was also reference to the dozen or so times she'd had to play EMT with a civilian, trying to keep them from kicking off before the ambulance arrived, and the many, many questionable deaths noted in her GPD file.

Then it got weird, talking about her family history, things about her ancestry that she didn't even know, and a bunch of conjecture about old gods and warriors and half-assed mythology. An addendum had been added at the end, referencing her brush with death while part of Taskforce X as if it were confirmation of something; confirmation of the bold print halfway down the page that declared her a 'possible metahuman'.

"What the hell is this?" she asked as if Digger could answer such a question. "This is crazy. Cops get shot, people get shot every day! A couple close calls and I'm Ra's al Ghul?"

"Dunno, love," the Aussie shrugged. "Just thought you oughta know what Waller's sayin' about you." He paused, then narrowed his eyes, one side of his mouth quirking up with humor. "That bit about gypsies and medicine men and all; that true?"

Tamry rolled her eyes, folding the paper back up and stuffing it in her pocket. "My grandma's dad _was_ a gypsy, but he ran away to have a normal life. I think his mother was Native American; I dunno, he didn't tell my grandma alot about that part of the family. The rest of this is bullshit."

In the back of her mind, behind all the confusion, incredulity, and outrage over the insane things in her profile, she realized that it did make a sort of sense. Not the crazy mumbo jumbo or twisting her medical history into evidence that she was superhuman, that was completely bughouse, but the fact that _someone_ at the top of the food chain believed it explained how Sheer had ever even _heard_ about a top secret, black ops, fully expendable kite team like Taskforce X. How else would an embarrassment of a Gotham cop ever have made the cut and been ranked among the likes of El Diablo and Killer Croc? Like so many times before, Tamry had benefited from the misconceptions of others.

" _Not rushin' you or anything_ ," Floyd's deadpan voice broke in irritatedly over the radio. " _Just waitin' to save the world up here, that's all_."

"Calm ya' tits," Boomerang shot back at him. "We're comin'."

He stepped back to let her open the door, but Tamry didn't leave yet. Sheer looked up at the convict who was suddenly such a huge part of her world - a world that was very possibly about to end.

"Why did you come back? It wasn't for me, was it?" She didn't ask if it was because of the insane ramblings on Waller's profile of her, because that was too out there to even consider, but the idea that Harkness had come back to rejoin a fight that could get him killed _for her_ made her twist inside. If he died and she lived, she could handle it - she'd dealt with loss and sorrow before. If he died _because of her_ , Tamry didn't think she could survive the guilt.

Boomerang grinned widely, blue eyes bright and laughing at her. "Ooo, look who thinks her arse is dipped in gold," he sang. Pulling open the door himself, he gave her a little nudge forward. "Nah, sugar. I couldn't just run out on me mates, could I? 'Sides, witch is tryin' to take out the world, right? Where the fuck am I gonna go?"

There was, of course, a chance he was lying, but Tamry hoped not. She liked the idea that George -who never had a partner he wouldn't sell out who had let Slipknot die rather than risk himself - thought of the squad as his mates, that he couldn't run out on them because he felt that connection. And that he was smart enough to realize that end of the world also means end of Captain Boomerang. He was pretty under all the layers of sleeze, but not pretty enough that he could get away with being that stupid.

As they climbed up the escalator, Sheer felt the back of the jacket lift and heard a deep chuckle rumble up from behind her.

"I take it back, love. Yer arse is definitely golden."

* * *

Tamry Sheer's No Touchy rule was being broken all over the place tonight. Even the woman who voluntarily put her tongue between the Joker's silver teeth cringed when the detective's hand - cartoonishly tiny by comparison - closed around a bared, scaly arm.

"Be careful down there, big guy," Sheer told Croc, who was more startled by the contact that anyone. "You know I'd miss that pretty face."

For half a second, the beast-man had no idea how to respond - to the touch, to the clear sincerity of her tone - and looked down at the much smaller woman with a cross between fear and sheepishness. It would have been adorable on someone who wasn't a recovering cannibal. Then he curled his lip and let out a snort that fluttered animalistic ally before pulling away and scuttling headfirst down the steps into the flooded subway tunnel.

Tamry turned her attention to the SEALs who were watching with expressions not quite as neutral as they aspired to be. "Seriously, if you let anything happen to him, I'm gonna change your name from GQ to Fangoria."

One side of the lieutenant's mouth quirked upwards. "Yes, ma'am."

Yeah, he was growing on her.

* * *

Down one homo-crocodilyan, the Suicide Squad moved out to earn their moniker. Creeping stealthily through the abandoned station, they headed up into the terminal. There were no sentry bubbleheads in their path, no traps, no defenses of any kind and every step they took unaccosted made Tamry's dread increase. The fact that there wasn't even an attempt at keeping any threats out meant that Enchantress believed there _were no threats_ ; not that no one might try to stop her, but that she had no fear of anyone who did. Sheer gripped her gun tightly, sweat making the rough surface of the handle scrape her palm and fingers uncomfortably. The big Aussie was practically glued to her back, their footfalls as in sync as Flag and Lawton up on point.

Tatsu brought up the rear, her hand resting ready on the hilt of her sword, and Chato and Quinn were just ahead of Tamry. As they climbed the final set of stairs that would lead them out into the open hub of the terminal, Floyd paused to fall back in step with Diablo.

"You gonna fight with us?" he asked far more calm than he had any right to be. The pyromancer glanced back at the detective before responding.

"I could lose control again," he said. It was a warning and an admission of fear. Floyd just half smirked.

"Then maybe we'll have a chance."

The terminal proper was surrounded by various shops and kiosks, ringed with stairs and lined with tall thick pillars. Most of the area was sunken down from the walkway surrounding it, where the team now slunk silently from cover to cover, and was filled with vintage-style wood benches. At the head of this space was a smaller platform that rose only a handful of steps above that, where normally an equally vintage clock would have stood. A massive portion of the roof was missing, letting the rain fall into the terminal. The centermost steps had been gouged out, melted and smoothed into a glassy divot above which rose higher still a small pedestal. On this platform stood Enchantress, silhouetted in the too bright light of her creation. Sprawling, flowing wings formed of shadow and black mist sprouted from her back and spanned the dais, undulating with every sinuous contortion as the witch swayed and snapped her body in near sensual gesticulations, feverishly working her magic.

The team got their first real look at the lightning geyser and the thing was far more intricate than any of them could have guessed. The pillar of sun-bright electricity was ringed by an ever churning series of massive, interwoven machine parts that appeared to be just as much smoke and ether as stone and metal. It sounded like the clanking knock of train wheels and gears, the hissing and spitting and grinding of every archaic machine ever dreamed and nightmared into existence.

"Hey, everyone can see all this trippy magic stuff, right?" Harley asked, blue eyes huge and gaping at the deadly lightshow.

"Yeah," Flag told her, brow furrowed in question. "Why?"

The blonde shrugged with an overwhelmed expression. "I'm off my meds."

"That's your old lady, man. You need to handle this shit, alright?" Deadshot told the colonel firmly. "Get up there, smack her on her ass, tell her, 'knock this shit off'."

Flag turned wide eyes on the assassin beside him. "I do not think that'd be wise."

"Anyone have eyes on Incubus?" Tamry hissed. The others shook their heads.

"We need to draw him out." Rick motioned with one hand towards the far side of the terminal. "Get him in that corner and the SEALs will detonate the bomb from underneath."

"So, how do we draw him out?" Sheer asked, thinking they needed a better strategy than to just run in, guns blazing. She needn't have bothered.

"I've been waiting for you all night," Enchantress declared in her surprisingly deep, smoothly smoky purr. "Step out of the shadows. I won't bite."

Tamry decided someone should have been keeping up with Quinn's meds, because the cordial command apparently sounded perfectly reasonable to the cracked babydoll and she moved to do just that.

"Harley!" she hissed, grabbing for the functionally deranged woman. Digger's thick arm came around her own waist, holding the detective in place when she would have lunged out of safe cover. Luckily, Floyd and Rick snagged the runaway blonde before she could get out into the open.

"Why are you here? Because the soldier led you?" the witch asked in a honeyed, coaxing tone. "And all for Waller, who sends you to your death in shackles. Why do you serve those who cage you? I have ever been your ally. I know you all and I know what you want; _exactly_ what you want."

Tamry's ears popped, muffling the ceaseless hollow grind of the machine as if she'd suddenly plunged underwater. Stars sparkled at the edges of her vision as night crept up her spine and threatened to slip over her mind like a soft, dark hood. She shook off the sensation, listing to the side in a sudden rush of vertigo and dropping to her knees hard on the polished stone floor. The shaking woman pitched forward on all fours, panting as she tried to overcome the feeling of heat and ice pressing in on her mind.

"Don't fight me, little one," Enchantress cooed soothingly. "Accept my gift."

' _I wanted to go off with you, Tam._ ' Sheer could almost see him, see them. Almost, but not quite. _It's not a gift if I have to pay for it_ , she thought. And the cost was far too high. The words repeated again and again as she pushed the witch back. With a feral snarl, the detective lurched forward, grabbing hold of the first solid thing her fingers found and dragging herself to her feet. Chato went stiff as a board, almost tipping over himself as the woman leaned on him for support. He blinked at Tamry with unfocused eyes, their centers as black and shiny as onyx.

"Hey," she said to the dazed man, gripping his shoulders tightly and giving him a shake. "Hey, snap out of it."

"I'm showing them all the things they dream of; all they desire. What can you offer them, foolish girl?" The smoky voice carried a sneer to the detective that only served to ignite her anger and strengthen her resolve.

Tamry took Santana's face in her hands, looking into those vacant eyes and finding deep longing and anguished need. She was only a shady cop and couldn't offer him anything more than toil and pain as they stood shoulder to shoulder, but at least those things were _real_.

"Come on, Sparky! Wake up!" she called, putting every ounce of authority and command and need and love - because she did love her beautiful pieces of filth - inside her into her voice and her touch, willing him to hear her, to feel her and come back. "You don't get to check out! _You owe me_ , you puta bitch!"

Diablo blinked and in the fraction of a second between when his eyes opened and close, they'd gone from dead and beetle-black to vibrant and rich brown.

"I can't change what I did," he declared, his face hardening into a mask of fury. "And neither can she. It's not real."

"It's not real," Sheer agreed with a nod. She looked away from the shaken, but furious man. The others were all standing shock still, staring vacantly ahead, oblivious to everything around them. She pushed Santana towards Flag, Lawton, and Quinn. "Wake them up!"

While Chato went forward, Tamry went back, rushing toward Digger and Tatsu. She grabbed the big Aussie and shook him, shouting his name. He looked down at her with the same black glass eyes, gazing _through_ her at whatever fever dream Enchantress had filled his mind with. Harkness's lips curved upwards in a warm, foolish smiled.

"Y'look so pretty, darl'," he murmured, lifting a hand to brush his fingertips lightly across her brow. Tamry's jaw tightened in annoyance and she shut down the way her brain wanted to reconcile that gentle touch with what Digger could be seeing in his mind's eye.

"Wake up, dumbass," she snapped, pulling his head down to touch her own. He hunched forward, as pliant as a sleepy child. Sheer kissed him, her mouth as hard and demanding as his had been out on that city street. "Whatever she's showing you, you better let it go and get the fuck back here, 'cause your ass belongs to _me_ , Captain."

Boomerang flinched, blinking rapidly until lifeless black was banished by clear sky blue. "Fuckin' hell," he gasped, shaking the fuzz from his head, then looking down at the detective with wide eyes. "It wasn't my idea, I swear, Tam!"

Tamry rolled her eyes and made a sound of disgust, though she was knee-weakeningly relieved he'd been so easy to pull out of the witch's clutches. She shoved the man towards the still thralled Katana.

"Wake her up," she ordered, then spun away, marching herself between the pillars and out into the open. Maybe it wasn't the most prudent course of action, but Temerity Sheer was pissed. She glared up at Enchantress and snarled, "You can't have them, you fucking mud cunt; those are _my_ scumbags!"

The witch, wearing a skimpy Goddess bikini, adorned with sigils and bangles like an D&D wet dream, only curled her mouth into a hungry grin, cold, superior, and wicked. "Impressive for such a small thing, but you could be so much more. The sun is setting and the magic rises," she half growled, her glowing eyes flickering brightly with malicious excitement. "Our kind rises. Our time has come again."

"Your time is up." Tamry raised her gun. She knew June was in there, the witch was leering at her with the shy archaeologist's sweet face. She didn't want to shoot, didn't want to kill June, but the world was at stake. The choice was easy, one life for billions, one gone so seven could remain; it was pulling the trigger that proved difficult. But then, when was her life ever easy?

Sheer wasn't Deadshot, but she was capable enough. The bullet she fired should have been a kill shot, right through the pale, creamy skin of June Moon's exposed sternum. If not the first, than the two that followed in rapid succession. Three slugs, center mass, and the swamp water spell caster should have dropped like a stone. Instead the rounds sparked where they struck flesh like flint, as if the witch were carved from stone.

"Well shit."

Enchantress sneered as the rest of the squad tromped down the stairs, coming to gather at the detective's back. "Do you see, now?"

"You know what I see, lady? You. Are. _Evil_!" Floyd shouted, aggressive and challenging. This did not please the witch, who scowled at the continued resistance. She spun to the side and called out in a strange tongue. "Oh, wow."

Out from the shadows stalked the giant Incubus. Enchantress's brother was a behemoth that stood at least ten feet tall and appeared to be a being made of glass imbedded with strips of wrought iron, glowing fiery red from within. Twin pauldrons rested atop otherwise bare shoulders, fanned like the Sydney Opera house, high inside to guard the neck. Atop his skull sat a headdress done in geometric shapes, more for form than function, yet the glowing green gem at the center of his forehead screamed weak spot to Sheer.

"This is gonna be bad!" Colonel Obvious shouted as Incubus stomped down into the terminal.

"We should run!" was Lawton's brilliant contribution.

"Light him up!" Tamry barked, emptying her clip at the approaching goliath. Deadshot and Flag followed suit, for all the good it did them. The bullets had as much effect on Incubus as they did his sister. However, big brother was more the strong, silent type and instead of leering at his enemies, the colossus raised his hands and from his outstretched palms shot thick tentacles of molten glass and steel.

Everyone dove for cover as the red hot whips streaked towards the squad, spearing straight into the stone steps and pillars when they failed to find their flesh and blood targets. Incubus swept a deadly cable in a wide sideways arch, barely missing the scrambling detective and leaving a deep trench in the wall behind her. Digger shouted for the monster's attention, throwing a boomerang grenade at his head - and she would have to talk to him about that particular weapon in the future. If they survived this.

Incubus swatted the bomb aside like a fly and came after the Aussie with murderous intent. Harley rushed in to haul Sheer to her feet and out of harm's way as the behemoth kicked a bench into Harkness like heavy structure was made of balsa wood. Katana flew through the air, an anime character come to life, slicing one giant hand clean off, giving Digger time to escape to relative safety. The injury only gave the golem a moment's pause as he simply grew the severed appendage back, showing his new hand to the tiny warrior and sneering before blasting another deadly tentacle straight for her.

"I lost one family, I ain't gonna lose another one!" Tamry heard Chato shout above the mayhem. "Over here!"

Incubus turned to face his new opponent, shrieking inhumanly as he was engulfed by Diablo's hellfire. The advantage was only momentary, however, as the colossus kicked out and launched Santana through the air and through the storefront of a barbershop on the walkway above. The squad converged on their enemy, Floyd opening fire with his wrist guns on one side, Tamry with her sidearm on the other, Harley and Digger moving in from behind with bat and blade respectively. All for naught, as Incubus lashed out with whips and limbs, striking each of his attackers down with ease.

Sheer rolled under a nearby bench, not bothering to hold back the whimpering groan that clawed its way up her throat. She hugged her side, each fast breath in causing a stab of anguish. If she didn't have at least one cracked rib, she was buying a lotto ticket first thing in the morning. The bench lifted away from her, flung carelessly aside by the monstrous Incubus. Tamry had lost her gun when his anvil-like fist slammed into her, not that it would do much good against the creature, but now she was completely defenseless.

As the goliath reached for her, a vicious, rasping wail echoed through the terminal. All eyes turned towards the ruined barbershop as a twelve foot tall Mesoamerican fire god, replete with breechclout and massive, blazing feather and tusk headdress, stepped out into the open. The terrifying being could only be Chato, transformed into an immense, flaming skeleton.

Diablo swore at his adversary, taunting him in Spanish, the man's voice having dropped several octaves into an otherworldly rumble that spoke of ash and death. Flame met glass once more as Santana spouted fire from his boney hands so hot it burned blue. Shrieking in pain, Incubus retreated under the onslaught, cringing away from the hellfire inferno engulfing him. Not quite able to bring the golem to his knees, Chato threw a skeletal fist into his enemy's face that landed with such force that Sheer could feel the impact in her chest.

" _Rick, we're in position. Standing by,"_ GQ announced over the comms.

"Diablo, drive him into the corner!" Flag shouted.

Diablo did just that, catching Incubus's wrists and shoving with unbelievable strength. The colossus tried to plant himself and resist, but he just slid backwards across the ground, scraping gouges into the stone as they went. Chato tore away the iron banding over his adversary's sternum, then flattened a boney palm against Incubus's chest. The sharp smell of melting glass and seared metal flooded the terminal as Diablo's touch liquefied the body beneath it, sinking into Incubus's breast. The giant howled, flames spouting from his open maw.

"Get 'im, mate!" Digger shouted from behind Tamry. The woman herself couldn't have made a sound if she tried, awed and terrified by the spectacle before her.

"Yeah, do it!" Floyd cheered.

Celebrating too soon, the fatal flaw of so many villains. They'd all forgotten that Incubus sucked life energy. He took everything Chato had to give and when the fire god had nothing left and his flames went out, the golem smiled and caught his enemy by the throat, slamming Santana to the ground viciously and looming over him. With a flurry of smoke and firefly embers, Chato shifted back, human and vulnerable once again.

"Diablo, get clear!" Flag bellowed. "Get outta there!"

The other man, at the mercy if the angry giant, only glared across the terminal. "Blow it!"

"Wait!" Tamry rushed towards her fallen comrade, her _friend_. She couldn't just let this happen, she had to do something. Just a distraction, that's all they needed, so Incubus would loosen his hold and Chato could slip away. Two seconds, that's all she would need.

Two seconds Digger took from her as he snatched the detective up from behind, lifting her clean off her feet and hauling her back to safety.

"Now, GQ, now," Rick ordered.

"No!" Harley shouted it, Tamry screamed it, fighting to free herself from Boomerang's protective embrace, but it didn't matter. GQ followed the order.

"Everybody down!" The squad followed Flag's command, dropping to the ground just before the explosion rocked the building. The ground shuddered beneath them, the force of the blast throwing bits of rock at their curled and braced bodies.

Enchantress let out a cry of pure anguish and collapsed to the stone on which she stood. The squad lifted their heads, tentatively looking around the terminal, having had too many false moments of triumph in the short, but intense battle with Incubus to not expect the goliath to inexplicably come charging back again. But the witch was curled into herself, moaning piteously and it was the only sound in the terminal - even the great machine had stopped churning for the moment.

Tamry bent Digger's thumb back until he jerked his hand away and let her go, scrambling to her feet and rushing for the last place she'd seen Santana. All that remained was a pile of broken marble and concrete surrounding a hole directly into the flooded subway tunnel beneath. The others came up behind her a moment later, all of them staring silent and solemn into the crater.

Sheer's chest twisted with fury and pain, grief fueling the black rage that bubbled up from within. She turned towards the witch.

"You next," Floyd echoed her thought.

Enchantress rose to her feet, snarling down at the team. "My spell is complete. Once your armies are gone, my darkness will spread across this world and it will be _mine_ to rule."

Before anyone could make a move, the witch spun and threw her arms into the air. The lightning pillar burst into brightness so intense it was blinding. Sheer covered her eyes, turning away to stop the sharp lance of pain searing into her skull. A shockwave blasted through the terminal as the machine slammed back to life, knocking them all to the floor once again.

The power being put out by the magical super-weapon caused an unnatural wind to blow through the terminal, tearing at their clothes and hair. When the lightning fired, the skies opened up and rain began to pour in through the destroyed roof.

"You got a move here, Flag?" Floyd shouted to be heard over the clanking roar as they all struggled to gain footing.

"We gotta cut her heart out!" the colonel replied. Tamry grabbed for Digger, reaching into his jacket and pulling one of his razor-edged boomerangs free.

"I'll cut the bitch's heart out," she growled, the sound coming from a place so low in her chest she hadn't known it existed until that moment.

"Tam!" Harkness grabbed for her, but she slipped his grasp, stalking her way towards the platform.

Enchantress spun in a puff of green sparks and smoke and gone was the slim, pale sensuality of June, replaced by a being composed of more shadow than flesh with limbs unnaturally long and slender, eyes glowing like burning emeralds. The primordial wretch sank down into a predator's crouch, shoulders shifting like a cat about to pounce. Sheer pulled Grigg's baton from her belt and snapped it open.

The witch vanished in another puff of smoke. She appeared directly behind the detective, but Tamry was already turning, lashing out with the boomerang. Enchantress dodged back in a move so fluid Sheer would have had no trouble believing the hag was made of water. She felt solid enough, though, when the baton caught her where her kidney should have been an instant later.

Enchantress disappeared again, popping up between Flag and Lawton, throwing each man to the ground before finding herself surrounded by the three remaining squad members. Digger, Tatsu, and Harley kept her busy for a few seconds before a well timed swipe of Katana's sword had her vanishing again.

When the witch didn't immediately reappear, Flag reminded them all, "While we're fightin' that thing's layin' waste to the whole damn world!"

"Well, where is she?" Lawton asked.

"I don't know!" Harley spoke for all of them and too soon. The moment the words were out of her mouth, Enchantress flashed into being atop her pedestal once more - this time, holding twin machete-length swords aloft.

"Well, fuck." Tamry really wished she hadn't thrown away that body armor about now.

The witch went after Floyd first and the man managed to land a solid punch to her jaw before being kicked ten feet across the terminal into the side of a bench. Enchantress turned her attention to Katana and Tamry rushed in from her opposite side. The witch spun easily between the two women, blocking every attack and countering with all the ease and precision of a dancer. She flung the small samurai into the detective and moved on.

Tamry shoved Tatsu aside uncaringly, focused solely on getting the sharp steel in her hand into the bog wench's chest. Harley was kicked back and Floyd slid between Enchantress and Flag to block a deathblow meant for the colonel. Tamry launched herself over the fallen soldier, her kick catching the witch in the small of her back and making her stumble, but only for an instant. She whirled on Sheer in a swirl of smoke, steel flashed in the light of her machine as the two women tried to put metal to flesh again and again.

Digger sent a boomerang towards the witch's head, but Enchantress easily knocked it away, continuing her defensive spin into offense and slashing at the Aussie. She sliced through his beloved coat, the very tip of her sword sliding through the tank below like butter, parting the hairs on his belly but not the flesh. Tamry swung her baton, cracking the steel against the back of the witch's neck and dropping her to her knees. Enchantress used the new position to her advantage, kicking one deceptively frail looking leg out and sweeping the detective's feet from under her.

She swooped down on Sheer from above with both blades and Tamry just barely managed to get her defenses up in time. Enchantress cocked her head slowly to the side, ethereal green eyes shining down at the woman beneath her.

"Stop fighting me," she said. It wasn't an order, but it wasn't meant to be refused, either. "Come with me. Let me show you what you are."

Before Tamry could tell the swamp hag to go fuck herself, the witch was yanked off of her. Croc swung Enchantress around by the ankles, slamming her into the nearest pillar once before flinging her away. He hauled Sheer to her feet with one strong hand.

"The hell did you come from?" the detective panted; not that she wasn't grateful for the timing. Tamry was suddenly wrenched away from the big man and tossed up onto the platform.

"You _will_ be mine," the witch growled. She lifted a hand and Sheer jerked up from the floor. Half standing, half suspended, she was raised up on her toes, hands cast out from her hips. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak, but she could see and hear as Enchantress turned back towards the others. With a quick swipe of her hand, all their weapons were torn from their grasp and flung aside. "Enough!"

The rest of the squad stood almost in a perfect line at the foot of the stairs leading up to the platform. Beaten, but not broken and not even close to giving up. Even if they failed, even if they all died, Tamry's heart swelled with pride as they faced down their adversary. The wretch moved to stand atop her pedestal, gazing down at the collection of wondrous miscreants below as a queen upon her subjects. Tamry would have snarled, but all she could manage through the magic restraining her was a throaty growl. They weren't the witch's, they were _hers_.

"Of all who have face me, you have earned mercy," Enchantress declared, grandly magnanimous. "For the last time, join me or die."

The squad looked at each other, not willing to give in, but not knowing how to win the fight. That's when Harley spoke up.

"I'm not much of a joiner… but, maybe we should."

All eyes turned to the blonde and Tamry's stomach dropped away in horrified disbelief. Floyd glared at Quinn.

"Hey!" he snapped angrily. "She's tryin' to take over the world."

"So?" the doc challenged. "What's the world ever done for us anyway? It _hates_ us!"

She turned away from him, from all of them, and walked towards Enchantress.

"Hey, Harley!" Floyd tried to call her back. "Harley!"

She ignored him, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the bright glare of the lightning geyser and addressed the witch in a hesitantly hopeful voice. "Hey, lady? I lost my Puddin'… But you can get him back, right?"

So, that was it? The Joker? Harley was willing to trade the whole world for her beloved Mr. J.. Tamry probably shouldn't have been surprised, but she was. She knew Quinn was crazy, she knew the woman was selfish and brutal, she knew the doc loved the deranged, green-haired terror of Gotham. She knew those things, but still this - _this_ , giving up everything and everyone, for a pretty, comforting _lie_ \- was never something Sheer would have believed; not from the jubilant reaper who embraced and flaunted all the ugliness within herself and the world around her.

"I can, my dear," Enchantress told her smoothly. "Anything you want."

"You promise?" Harley pressed, vulnerable and kittenish, the bluest of eyes wide and pleading. The witch stepped down off the pedestal, practically slithering she moved so smoothly down the stairs to meet her new disciple.

"Yes, child," she assured the blonde. "You need only bow and serve beneath my feet."

Quinn nodded, sinking down to her knees before the wretch. "I like what you're sellin', lady," she said, dropping her hands to her sides. "There's just one teeny problem… _You messed with my friend_."

Enchantress only had enough time to look down in surprise - premature victory strikes again - as Harley snatched up Tatsu's discarded katana and surged upward, swinging the blade as she went. The sword slashed across the witch's chest, releasing a flood of brilliant green light before Quinn shoved her hand inside and yanked out the source. The hag toppled to the side. The witch was no longer strong enough to keep Tamry frozen and the detective crumpled to the ground, but enough of her magic remained that Sheer was struggling to get to her feet.

"Her heart's out!" Flag shouted. "We can end this!"

Strong hands, hot and sweaty, grabbed Sheer and hauled her from the ground. Digger scooped the incapacitated woman to his chest and bounded back down the stairs as Rick handed off a massive amount of C4 to Croc to throw into the heart of the machine and Lawton called for Harley to toss him the nearest gun - her own harlequin revolver. Harkness had just dropped down behind the closest bench when Floyd fired his shot - a shot only he could have made, hitting one of the blasting caps and setting off the bomb just as it slipped between the giant, churning gears.

Every sense Tamry had ever possessed was replaced by sound. The explosion was loud, but it was nothing to the deafening, thunderous roar that filled her head as the machine collapsed in on itself. It lasted an eternity in only a few seconds and then even sound left her and for an instant, she floated in am vast, empty void. Then, Digger's heavy panting filled her ears and fell hot upon the back of her neck where his face was pressed to the skin.

"Fuckin' 'ell, is it over yet?" he growled, lifting his head and checking, but keeping his arms locked around her. When he slumped back down against the floor, Tamry had her answer. "Fuckin' Christ, man."


	10. Shocked and Shaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the great comments, you guys! :) They make it all worth it.

"Are you okay?" Tamry asked, looking up from where she was tucked against Digger's chest, gripped between his bent knees, both of them on their side on the hard marble. It was a very awkward and not at all comfortable position, yet the woman wasn't in any rush to leave it. He lifted his head from where it hung back and gazed at her, exhausted, but whole.

"You?" She nodded in kind. He shifted, clearly not comfortable either, and rolled onto his back, keeping her against his chest like a child holding a teddy. "Good. Fuck, I need some amber fluid and a long soak in - what's 'is?"

Whatever it was that caught Digger's attention, Tamry couldn't see because it was under the bench. He carefully rolled the detective off and turned onto his stomach to creep beneath the heavy wood to get at the mysterious thing. Sheer used the bench for support as she stood on legs that were shaky with fatigue and relief.

The sun was rising, the pale gray illumination of dawn filtering in through the gaping hole in the roof. The rest of the squad were picking themselves up, looking around in the same hesitant way as Sheer, half expecting another attack to come from nowhere. That was unlikely, given the jittering panic being displayed by their adversary. Enchantress was crouched in the divot that had been cut into the steps, hunched and feral, her eyes darting from one threat to the next. As ragged as they all looked, she was more or less surrounded and, having blown her proverbial load magic wise, she was fairly at their mercy - not something anyone in the room was known for. The question was, what the hell _were_ they going to do with her?

The witch couldn't be trusted and forcing her into obedience had proven fatal for Amanda Waller, so trying to return things to the way they had been before was completely out of the question. Still, June Moon was in there, somewhere, and completely innocent. No one seemed inclined to take the burden of her death on their shoulders.

"That was a great shot!" The colonel grinned widely at Lawton. It was the first time Tamry had ever seen him really smile, but even she winced when he tried to pull Deadshot into a manly hug. The assassin shook his head, leaning awkwardly from the soldier's embrace.

"I don't do hugs," he declared. "I'm not a hugger."

Digger stepped up beside Tamry and nudged her gently. "Is this what I think it is?" he asked, softly horrified. She looked to see what he was talking about. In his hand rested a small bundle of dried grass, feathers, and who knew what else, bound tightly with black cord wound through a hag stone. The fetish emitted a weak, sickly green glow.

"Rick!" Tamry gasped instead of answering the Aussie. Flag turned away from his failed bonding moment at her call and when his eyes fell on what Boomerang was holding, his whole demeanor changed. Wide eyed and open mouthed, he took the space between them in two steps and snatched the talisman from the other man, whirling back to the cowering witch.

"You bring June back," he demanded, looming over Enchantress menacingly, but there was a desperation in his voice that belied how truly vulnerable he was. His words were a forceful order, but also a pathetic plea and the witch just sneered up at him. "Bring her back!"

"She's not coming back," she hummed, cruelly pleased with herself.

Flag held the heart aloft for her to see, clenching the fragile bundle in his fist. "I'll crush this," he threatened, voice cracking. "Do you hear me? You bring June back or I'll crush this!"

"Go ahead." The mud smeared hag snickered at the soldier. "You don't have the balls," she scorned, then let out a malicious cackle.

Rick stared at the witch, his eyes shining, brimming with tears, his face shifting from anger to abjectly stricken. He held the fetish, Enchantress's heart between his hands and did what they all knew needed to be done. He crushed the talisman, grunting and hunching forward as if it were his own heart being destroyed. Tamry knew that it may as well have been. A hand, hot and sweaty curled around her own and she gripped it tightly. The hag shrunk in on herself, curling up like a dying spider and let out a hollow, rasping shriek as Flag crushed the life out of her. With a final jerk of her limbs, Enchantress slumped back onto the smooth glassy surface beneath her.

Rick dropped the fetish and jackknifed upright, twisting away from the sight of his lover's body, corrupted and now lifeless. He staggered across the marble, moving as if blind, until he hit a bench and lost his footing. Folding over beside the bench as if it were a pew and he about to genuflect, the man collapsed in on himself with the pain of his loss, of his failure.

Tamry stared at the body laying just feet away and burned with anguished rage at the injustice of it all. June hadn't deserved any of it. She didn't belong on Taskforce X, she wasn't a killer or a thief, she wasn't even a fighter! The woman was just caught up in evil and magic and madness. Even amidst all that, she'd let herself fall in love, only to die at the hands of her lover because the thing, the parasite that had latched onto her was too dangerous to let live. It wasn't fair. It wasn't _right_. She didn't even look like herself. June was sweet faced and delicate; smeared with mud, her hair stringy and caked with dirt, she was barely recognizable.

Sheer pulled away from Digger. His fingers twitched as her hand slipped from his, clearly reluctant to let her go, but not wanting to force her. The big Aussie wasn't cut out for this sort of thing any more than June had been. Harkness was a fighter, but he wasn't a killer like the rest of them. She knew if she looked up at him, his blue eyes would be just as wet as her own. But she didn't look, not willing to offer comfort or seek it herself, too filled with seething anger. Instead, Tamry moved to drop down beside the body. The corpse. June was a corpse now, she realized with a cramping stab to her stomach.

Pulling the too long sleeve of the rain dampened Captain jacket over her hand, the emotionally overwrought detective carefully wiped the mud from June's face. The black-brown loam gave way to the paleness of skin. It broke Tamry's heart to see that Moon's cheeks were still pink, even in death. She lifted her other hand and traced the flush with shaking fingers, feeling the lingering warmth that had not yet fled the empty flesh.

The body twitched and Sheer snatched back her hands with a start. Before she could berate herself for her pointless sentimentality and anger over the nervous system expelling the residual electric charge, June's mouth snapped open and her ribcage surged upward, expanding in a sudden sharp gasp. Tamry jerked back, flinging herself away from the inexplicably _animated_ corpse before her and falling down the stairs.

"Tam!" Digger barked her name, rushing to the horrified detective. When June abruptly sat upright, the Aussie let out an undignified yelp and all but wrenched Sheer from the floor.

"Hey, Flag!" Floyd called out to the broken soldier, the assassin's voice uncharacteristically unsteady, unsure. His words fell on ears deafened by grief, it wasn't until his fallen lover whimpered his name that Rick raised his head.

Seeing June looking back at him with her murky blue-green eyes, the soldier let out a strangled sound of raw emotion, surging to his feet and rushing towards her. He was ungainly and careless, tripping and dropping hard to his knees, but didn't notice in the slightest, only finished closing the distance between them in a desperate half crawl. Flag caught up the trembling woman, torn between holding her so close nothing could ever tear her away again and staring at her in disbelief.

"I thought I killed you," he said in a voice comprised of air, awe, and guilt. June only shook her head, tears streaming through the mud still smeared on her fact, and pulled her lover down into a frantic kiss.

"Tam," Digger said her name in a soft, questioning tone and when Sheer looked up at him, the man was gazing down at her with an uncertain, questioning sort of awe. "Did… did you do that?"

Tamry immediately shook her head, as petrified of the concept as he was. Moreso even. "I didn't do anything," she told him and it was the truth. She hadn't done anything. Had she? No! Of course not. "The witch just lied when she said killing her would kill June. We probably should have seen that coming."

"Right. Makes sense," he nodded, but didn't look as convinced as she'd have liked. Sheer frowned up at him.

"I didn't do anything, Digger," she insisted a second time. "You don't think if I could keep people from dying, Slipknot would still be alive?"

Now it was Boomerang's turn to frown, clearly remembering how the death of their former teammate had upset the detective. Of course, there was no guilt over his own part in the man's demise, she was glad to see.

"Good point, darl'," he conceded.

"This is Tango X-ray Alpha requesting medical support and evac at Harper Street Terminal. Area has been cleared."

" _Copy that, Tango X-ray Alpha._ "

The voice, Tamry was shocked to see, belonged to a very worse for wear GQ Edwards, sitting propped up against a hunk of stone not far from the hole his bomb had left in the floor. One of his shoulders was lower than the other in a way that indicated a dislocation and there was a large amount of bruising on the side of his face. His legs were stretched out in front of him, but one of them just didn't look _right_ and the detective was very glad his pants covered whatever was wrong with it.

"Did you just swim up out of there?"

The soldier gave a dry laugh, wincing and pressing a hand to his ribs - probably broken given the state of him. "Nah. Just woke up, though. What the hell happened?"

"We won," Digger grinned.

"Wait, what do you mean you just woke up?" Deadshot asked, dropping exhaustedly onto a bench. "You see a fight goin' on in front of a magic lightning spire and just decide to take a nap?"

"I don't even know how I got here, man," the lieutenant insisted. "A bunch of those things jumped us in the tunnel. I didn't have time to rig the remote detonator, had to set off the charge by hand."

"You _set off_ the bomb?" Lawton demanded. He glanced at the crater and pointed. "That bomb?"

GQ let out a single scoffing laugh and nodded. "Yeah. I mean it's a focused charge, so the blast was directed upwards, but still. Next thing I know…" He motioned at himself sprawled on the floor looking like he went three rounds with a cement mixer.

"You're welcome," Croc growled flatly from the shadow of a pillar, his reptilian eyes reflecting the early sunlight spookily.

"You dragged me out?" GQ asked, but didn't wait for confirmation. "Last time I saw you, you were wrapped up with three of those things. You're one tough SOB, Waylon. Thank you, man."

Croc nodded silently in acceptance of the gratitude, clearly not used to such a thing. Tamry shot him a proud smile. The way his shoulders hunched slightly, she wondered if he might actually be _bashful_ at the moment. It didn't last, of course.

"Waylon?" Digger cut in, bewildered. "Ya' real name's _Waylon_?" When the lizard man nodded, Boomerang smirked. "No wonder y'go by 'Croc'."

Tamry elbowed him in the ribs. The Aussie grunted, but wasn't cowed; he just grinned down at her insolently.

" _Tango X-ray Alpha, medical is inbound. Evac ETA fifteen minutes._ "

"Copy that." It was Rick who answered the comms. He was still holding June close and tight, as if she might slip away again. He looked around at the rest of the squad. "You heard the man. Fifteen minutes and we're on our way back to Belle Reve."

Floyd let out a tired sigh and levered himself up off the bench. "Better get moving then, huh?"

"If y'all don't mind," Waylon intoned pointedly. "I got me a sewer to crawl back into."

"Yeah, I got some business to take care up back in Gotham," Lawton said, stretching his back as he headed for the steps. Harley grinned, coming up beside the assassin to reclaim her pistol and tuck it away in its holster.

"I'm gonna hotwire a car, need a lift?" she asked, all bubbles and pep, despite her horrendously smeared makeup and the bruises standing out on her alabaster skin.

"Your ass is not drivin'," Deadshot decreed. The blonde gaped in offense.

"Why not?!" she squeaked.

"'Cause I wanna live to get there," he responded flatly. Quinn rolled her eyes and didn't dignify his comment with a response. Instead, she turned towards Tamry and Digger.

"You comin'?"

It was tempting. Leaving now, letting Flag deal with the fallout and debrief and lying over and over about what had happened, not having to wait weeks or even months to go home and try to contact Harkness where ever the hell he'd have run off to; so tempting. But she couldn't. How would she explain to Gordon why she was back with no official communications from Waller? The Taskforce might be dissolved with no members, but that didn't mean the suits wouldn't come looking for her for answers.

Before she could decline the offer, however, Digger asked, "Y'mind stoppin' in Atlantic City along the way?"

"Feelin' lucky, Boomy?" Harley grinned with a waggle of her eyebrows. "Wanna hit the casino?"

The Aussie shook his head. "Nah. There's a little chapel where a bloke'll marry y'dressed as Gandalf."

Tamry gawked at him. While her mind tried to make sense of the words 'marry' and 'Gandalf', Quinn bounced on her toes and clapped like an excited toddler.

"I love weddings!" she squealed gleefully. "I get to be ya' maid of honor, right?"

The detective's brain kicked back into gear and she held up her hands to ward off the absurd notion. "We are _not_ getting married!"

Harley's face instantly fell into an exaggerated pout. "Poop."

"Course we are," Digger insisted jovially, completely unaffected by his reluctant fiancé's incredulous rejection of the joyous news. "Y'said so y'self, sugar. My ass belongs to you, right? And ya'-"

The death glare Tamry immediately sent the brash scumbag's way made his grin widen to obnoxious proportions, but he didn't say the words they both knew he was about to

"-heart belongs to me," he finished instead. The doc cooed sweetly, swooning over the sentiment, prompting Floyd to roll his eyes in disgust. "Oughtta make it official, y'reckon?"

"I am not drivin' to Gotham with a couple newlyweds in the back seat," the assassin decreed.

Harley started to reprimand him, a grin almost as big as Digger's plastered across her face. Her left eye twitching disconcertingly, Tamry started to contradict the delusional groom-to-be. Croc had started to just head out of the terminal. None of them got far, as a quiet electronic peal cut into existence. As soft as it was, the sound may as well have been a claxon striking every member of the squad silent and still. Amanda Waller, disheveled, her suit wrinkled and smudged with dirt, strolled into the open air of the terminal, tired, but very much alive.

"How are you not dead?" Lawton demanded. It was that sort of thing that kept Sheer from believing in the concept of karma. They'd fought all night long, were beaten, bruised, bloodied, and exhausted, and there she was, holding her nanite detonator, thumb poised over the faces of the people who had just _saved the world_.

"We just saved the world!" Quinn echoed Tamry's thought, but with far less vitriol than the detective felt. "A 'thank you' would be nice."

"Thank you," Waller immediately and perhaps sincerely intoned. The blonde perked with pleasant surprise and nodded, apparently satisfied with that.

"You're welcome." She really was crazy.

Floyd was less than impressed with the display of gratitude. "So we did all of this and we don't get shit?"

"Ten years off your prison sentences," Amanda offered, as if it was reasonable recompense. It wasn't. Digger started laughing with incredulous scorn and Croc all out snarled. Deadshot shook his head.

"Nah, that's not enough," he told her, then added unbendingly, "I'm seeing my daughter."

Maybe it was the fact that she was exhausted to or maybe it was to keep the someone from shooting her before she got the chance to blow their head off, but Waller let out a weary sigh and surrendered. "That can be arranged," she told the shooter. Then, looking around the group, "Any other requests?"

For a bunch comprised of some of the most dangerous, deadly, and insane people in the world, their demands were shockingly, humblingly simple.

"An espresso machine!" Quinn requested, highly pleased with herself for having thought of it. Croc demanded cable television, specifically BET. Harkness gave another laugh that was so dry and disbelieving, it sounded like a choke.

"Ten years off a triple life sentence?" he demanded with contempt. Pulling himself up to his full six foot plus height, he stalked up to his jailer. Shoulders back, chest pushed out, eyes hard as his mouth curved into a viciously challenging smile, Captain Boomerang cut an incredibly intimidating figure. He spoke in a smooth drawl that promised violence, "Darlin', I'm walking outta here a free man or we're gonna start havin' some real fun."

Waller actually took the last two steps between them herself, looking up at the big Aussie with eyes bright and more than fearless - _eager_. Her voice was a low rasp of anticipation when she practically chewed the words, "Why don't we have some fun?"

Sometimes Harkness wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but the man wasn't stupid, not by a long shot. He wasn't bloodthirsty the way Waller was. The woman wouldn't hesitate to kill him; by challenging her, he'd already tipped his hand that he did was reluctant to be as equally cold blooded. There was a moment of awkward shifting from Boomerang and Tamry took pity on her foolish lover.

"C'mon, Captain. Knock it off," she said softly, urging him away from Waller and her detonator. He huffed and rolled his eyes, as if the altercation didn't matter in the slightest, making his way back to where Sheer stood waiting.

Harkness didn't take her hand or put his arm around her, he didn't even stand suffocatingly close, as he had been all night. At first, Sheer thought it was because he was upset about having his freedom snatched away from him at the last second, then she worried her reaction to his ridiculous unilateral decision that they were going to get married on the way to Gotham had injured his feelings somehow.

Finally, the detective realized he was keeping his distance because of Waller's hawk-like eyes watching every move any of the squad made. He was trying to protect her and her place on the team by downplaying their new closeness. In the throes of passion, Digger had said those three little words over and over and, while Tamry had all but drowned in them in the moment, she hadn't actually believed they could be true. No one was speaking, save for Rick and June's quiet murmuring, and the stillness afforded Sheer a few moments of quiet contemplation.

Since they'd first fucked, George had become demonstrably possessive and protective to the point of clinginess, but that wasn't what Tamry was going over in her mind. She was scrolling through months and months of interactions with the big Aussie and finding more and more things she'd overlooked or underappreciated at the time. There was no doubt about it, he'd risked his life to save hers the day she got shot. He'd constantly pestered her about her sex life, but half the time the questions were completely innocuous and mostly about why she was alone. She hadn't let herself believe the man had tried to go _back into_ the fire Chato had started, but… he had. He even tried to kick her out of his cell when she'd gone there for sex - if that wasn't a screaming sign, she didn't know what was. So… was it possible Captain Boomerang actually did love her?

It definitely was. Fuck… she apparently loved the scumbag back, too.

* * *

"We got a DB over here!" one of the EMT's shouted to his compatriots. Three of them were hovering around GQ. They'd cut his pants off and Tamry had made sure to remain looking resolutely in the opposite direction. She didn't have a problem with gore, but she wasn't a fan of it either and she'd watched a couple dozen up close decapitations already that night. Her eyes found Digger's and saw the recognition there mirroring her own. There was only one body they might find amongst the rubble in the terminal.

The medical helicopter had arrived first, bearing the EMTs and their gear. Once Edwards was stabilized, they'd haul him out on a backboard and head for the closest hospital. The transport chopper that would take the rest of the squad "home" to Belle Reve had apparently been preemptively commandeered by Waller - who was currently getting a basic debrief from Flag - so, they'd had to call for another. Both were still inbound, but the one for the team was at least ten minutes behind the first, so they had to wait. Sheer could only hope their helo arrived before the medics carted Chato's mangled corpse out into the open.

"Shit, I got a pulse!"

The words set off a bomb between Tamry's ears and the whole world rocked sideways. As they had several times that night, sure hands caught and steadied the off kilter detective. A pulse. He found a pulse. A pulse meant a beating heart. It meant life.

"He's alive!" Quinn's shrill shout cut across the redhead's consciousness like Katana's blade.

_Alive alive alive_.

Sheer looked up into Digger's wide blue eyes, the pair having a silent argument in signals of frowns, shaking heads, and furrowed brows. It wasn't possible. Yes, Chato was immune to fire, but nothing else and certainly not a concussive blast. The explosion should have literally torn him apart. Harkness's hands tightened on the detective's upper arms, giving her a single, tiny shake to drive home his unspoken point. Chato Santana should have been dead. GQ Edwards should have been dead. June Moon _should_ have been dead. Yet, there they all were, injured, broken, but breathing, hearts beating, _alive_.

But every other member of the support unit was dead. Slipknot was dead. Tamry had been there for all those deaths. Her presence hadn't changed a thing. She felt a sick wrenching twist of horror and guilt as a sudden bolt of clarity shocked through her. The lives lost meant nothing to her. She hadn't even known the names of the men on the support unit tonight, they changed so often, cookie cutter soldiers taking the place of those fallen or simply quit. GQ had been with the team the longest of anyone, almost felt like part of it. Slipknot… every emotion tied to the man's death revolved around Digger and how easily her not-yet-lover could have joined him - she felt nothing for the loss of Weiss himself.

Whatever Waller thought was special about Sheer, was it impeded by her ambivalence towards the lives of those men? If she'd only _cared_ would they still be alive? The world tilted again and her stomach heaved; thankfully there was nothing left in her belly but the memory of whiskey. It didn't make her a monster, not caring - it made her human. The lives of those that matter to you are, by definition, more important than those that do not. These weren't innocents, either. With the exception of Weiss, they were _soldiers_ ; they knew the risks they took. If there was some crazy gypsy voodoo shit going on with Temerity Sheer, she wasn't going to tie herself up in knots with guilt over deaths she had no control over.

"I need to sit down."

* * *

Amanda Waller was clearly exhausted. She was the puppet master, deadly calculating and vicious, but a fighter she was not and the night had visibly drained her. However, she was still sharp as diamond cut glass and when her ride showed up, she told them to hold until the other transport arrived. Apparently, she didn't exactly trust in Flag's sense of duty at the moment. That concerned Tamry greatly. If your general isn't leading his armies the way you see fit, you find another who will. Flag was obstinate and imperious, the definition of a hardass, but he was also a good man and didn't abuse his power. Any replacement Waller chose was, as far as the detective was concerned, a threat to the squad.

Then there was the issue of Harley Quinn's escape attempt. Sheer didn't know Waller well enough to anticipate how the woman might address the incident. Would she feel the need to give the doc some 'corrective education'? The blonde had put several of the guards at Belle Reve into the hospital and they were all perpetually itching to get payback for the injuries, so the difficult part wouldn't be finding people willing to give Quinn a brutal attitude adjustment, it would be keeping them from going too far. Tamry had made it clear to Griggs that she wouldn't tolerate any violence on her people that wasn't instigated and, even then, if the COs went too far, she'd take some corrective action of her own. But she couldn't be there 24/7 and with Waller giving the green light, it would be impossible to keep her friends safe in within the walls of the prison.

And Waller had been one twitching thumb away from killing George. That was beyond unacceptable. Tamry understood the need for the leash the nanites provided when dealing with incredibly dangerous individuals, but that understanding only gave Waller so much rope where the detective was concerned. If she ever stepped over the line, Waller would be stepping into her own grave.

Of course, the resultant mortality a fatal act against the squad promised was revenge and not deterrent. Waller didn't know that she'd be killing herself if she pressed one of those buttons on her little device. If Sheer let on what would happen, either through vague hints or blatant threats, Waller would just boot her off the team or have the detective, herself, killed.

The paper folded in Tamry's pocket, she realized, said otherwise. Amanda Waller thought she was a metahuman. Believed it so strongly that she'd orchestrated a scenario where Sheer actually thought she was volunteering for Taskforce X and not being recruited. And what Waller believed was that Tamry had some sort of power over life and death. A slithering tendril of and idea started winding its way through Tamry's mind and the thought made her lips slowly curl positively Grinch-like.

When the second transport arrived, the bedraggled squad ambled tiredly out of the terminal. Waller stood just aside, waiting until all her little pawns were on the chopper, detonator clutched tightly in her hot little hand. Tamry sidled up beside the woman, ignoring the way the others eyed the pair questioningly as they went passed.

"Just between us, because I know they're dangerous and should not be running around free," Sheer said, almost congenially. "You can use that to scare them and, hell, I could even understand self defense, but that's as far as it goes."

"Is it?" Waller asked, cold and flat. The redhead nodded. "I don't respond well to threats, Detective Sheer."

"It's not a threat. They die, you die," the detective told her in no uncertain terms. "But since you want them to live, to keep on fighting the good fight, it shouldn't be an issue, right?"

Waller looked at the other woman, her shiny onyx eyes boring deep, burning with savage intelligence and no small amount of defiance, things that, no doubt, served well in her rise to and tenacious grip on power. Tamry didn't flinch, knowing that any weakness she showed now, her friends would suffer for.

"It shouldn't be an issue," the dangerous woman finally conceded.

"Good." Now was the perfect time to give a perfectly mocking mild smile and go rejoin her team, secure in the knowledge that Waller would put her own self preservation over her need to eradicate any noncompliance in the most permanent way possible. Tamry didn't move. "Things are different now, you know. They weren't fighting for themselves this time. They saved the world. They saved _you_. You and the world owe them. Things are going to change at Belle Reve. They'll still be locked up, you'll still have your team, but you're going to make some changes."

"I am?" The emphasis of the inquiry was on who was making the changes, not whether the changes would be made. That gave Sheer a warm flush of triumph that she didn't show in the slightest.

"Of course," she said, smirking slightly. "You're the boss. And you appreciate the effort the squad has put in. You're already letting Floyd see his kid, giving Harley an espresso machine. A few more creature comforts can only build on that good will."

"I see. Is there anything else I'm going to do that I should know about?" Waller was tired, but still feisty. If she wasn't so icily evil, Tamry might have liked her.

"You're not going to replace Flag," the detective declared. "Which you shouldn't mind. It'd be really hard to recruit someone to lead this band of misfit toys who won't be tempted to use that detonator."

"That's a good point."

Tamry smiled, wide and toothy, practically channeling her big Aussie. "All my points are good points. Have a good flight. Get some rest, you look like you need it." She started off towards the chopper where the rest of the team waited. A thought struck her and she turned back, calling parting salvo to her boss. "Oh, he forgot to mention it, with the whole threat of death over his head and all, but Captain Boomerang wants a nice, long bath."

That, on top of everything else, was apparently too much for Waller and her face pinched with annoyance. "You can take care of it."

Tamry's obnoxious grin returned and she gave the other woman a salute. "Yes, ma'am. It'll be my genuine pleasure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I got one more chapter in me. Phew, literally, more than twice as long as I intended this fic to be. lol

**Author's Note:**

> I am a feedback JUNKIE, so if you like it, please let me know!


End file.
